


hope lost in darkness

by Cll



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John Winchester, Abuse, Abusive Alastair, Abusive Relationships, Alastair Being an Asshole, Angst, Big Brother Gabriel, Broken Dean, Creepy Alastair, Dead Mary Winchester, Dean is So Done, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Heartbreak, Human Castiel, Human Crowley, Human Meg, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Physical Abuse, Poisoning, Protective Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad Dean, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Sick Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 60
Words: 165,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cll/pseuds/Cll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'People who have never been abused often wonder why a person wouldn’t just leave. They don't understand that breaking up can be more complicated than it seems.'</p><p> </p><p>* currently Under construction*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, let's see how this takes <3

People who have never been abused often wonder why a person wouldn’t just leave. They don't understand that breaking up can be more complicated than it seems.

 

Ÿ Fear: Your friend may be afraid of what will happen if they decide to leave the relationship. If your friend has been threatened by their partner, family or friends, they may not feel safe leaving.

Ÿ Believing Abuse is Normal: If your friend doesn’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, perhaps from growing up in an environment where abuse was common, they may not recognize that their relationship is unhealthy.

Ÿ Low Self-esteem: If your friend’s partner constantly puts them down and blames them for the abuse, it can be easy for your friend to believe those statements and think that the abuse is their fault.

Ÿ Love: Your friend may stay in an abusive relationship hoping that their abuser will change. Think about it -- if a person you love tells you they’ll change, you want to believe them. Your friend may only want the violence to stop, not for the relationship to end entirely.

***

The laptop screen falls dim, adding to the darkened room around him. He's spent too long staring at the blurring words across his screen. Even as the information sits, he can't bring himself to exit the page. Almost hoping for all the answers he's been looking for too appear in front of him. Like this will make everything better again. It wont, he knows it wont, it's a silly thought to even think that it would have made everything better. Nothing comes that easy. To think that he could have won this war in the first place was practically delusional. To think that they would have had a happy ending is even more crazy. 

 

...  
*4 months earlier*

Castiel pulls his car around back of the two story brown brick building, located in the "Bad part" of town, or better known as downtown. At least that's what Castiel refers to it as. A large blue neon sign adorns the front of the sad looking building. Large bulky letters, that glow black in the afternoon light, reading Crossroads BAR in cursive over the top of the dark blue. Letters flicker in and out from age, slightly buzzing as they do so. He sighs as he glances up at the familiar sign, the poor building so old that it's close to collapsing. Even though the place rakes in enough money to fix these things, the owner, Crowley has different ideas as of where he is going to spend it. Crowley is a cruel man, with dark eyes and dark hair, to match his personality he guesses. He's not around his business much, seeming as he has other places to check up on. The man owns close to twenty other business in this town alone. Castiel doesn't know what they are, or where but he's heard enough horror stories about it, that he keeps his mouth shut. The man is snarky, even blunt and rude sometimes. He may be shorter than Castiel, but that doesn't mean he isn't more terrifying. Having been in prison for sometime before disappearing completely. Until one day his name was popping up everywhere. He doesn't know much, but he does know that his boss is dangerous. You heard right, Castiel's boss. Ever since last year he believes. Castiel moved here a little over a year ago, with his brother. And as time went on, he decided Two months after moving that he needed something to fill some of his free time. That's when he saw the makeshift sign taped out front claiming they needed help. He didn't know the first thing about bartending, but that's just another reason he wanted the job. He didn't want just some regular boring job. He wanted something that would be different, totally unlike him. At least something to put some excitement into his life. And from what he's heard the place was pretty crazy sometimes. So he took it. And has been working there ever since. 

He pulls into the little space behind the building, claimed as his, and throws his car into park. Taking his seat belt off, and grabbing his things from the passenger seat, he removes the keys from ignition, and pockets them. Then finally steps out of his silver Mercedes.

Cold air nips at his skin in large bursts of wind, as he continues to walk to the back entrance of the bar. He can already hear the thumping of the music inside, the DJ clearly ready for a long, busy night. 

He takes a deep breath in, and opens the large metal door, the wind threatening to close it again. Warm air immediately envelops his chilly skin, as he steps further into the building, seeming as how both the heat and AC are broken. He lets the door swing closed behind him, and steps further inside. Boxes are stacked in large towers against the walls, lights above flickering with the power of the bass. He can already feel a headache coming on as the smell of dust and liquor assault his nose. He makes his way to the end of the hallway, and steps up to the cubbies and hooks, back behind the kitchen. All the hooks have different names listed above them. Places to put your things, and If your smart, you will learn quickly not to leave anything with value in your cubbies, unless you never want to see it again. Castiel thinks he learned that lesson on his first day working in this hell hole. 

He pulls his trenchcoat off and hangs it on the hook labeled Castiel, his name scribbled in fading sharpie against peeling white paint. He removes his phone from the pocket of his coat, and ties the black apron around his waist, shoving the cell phone in the front pocket, along with a pen and some straws he finds on the shelves next to cubbies.

"Your late." Comes the accented tone, from behind him. Castiel lifts his head from where he is looking down at his working hands, and turns around. He exhales loudly when he sees Crowley standing a few feet away. The man is wearing his usual black suit and deep scowl as he glares at Castiel and takes a sip of his scotch. "I know, I'm sorry." he mumbles in return, tying one last knot into the apron for good measure. Crowley mumbles under his breath, fiddling with something in his pocket. He seems to think something over before answering "Get to work." He growls after a moment, rolling his brown eyes. He pushes past Castiel hastily, still mumbling under his breath, about lazy workers, as he makes his way to his office down the hallway. Castiel pushes out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. He's silently glad that his boss is too busy today to chew him out for being late, again.

He checks the black apron around his slender hips once more, making sure it's secure. Then letting out another sigh he steps through the kitchen, not bothering waving at the cooks that glare at him as he passes. He pushes through the large brown double swinging doors. Music blasting over him in one large wave, it gets even louder as he makes his way up to the dark brown bar, polished and shining under the dim lights. It's Friday, which means it's very busy, bodies sliding against each other, and all stools filled up along the bar, along with most of the booths being filled as well. He imagines that there is line forming outside already. So much for some quiet until the sun goes down, seems everyone decided to start the party early.

"Where have you been? I've been working alone for over an hour." Meg scowls, as she saunters up to him with a tray of empty glasses In hand. Her hair sticking up out of what he assumes was a neat bun atop her blonde head, and liquor splattered down her apron. 

"Something came up." he apologizes, shrugging innocently. Castiel takes the tray from her, and sets it down on the bar. "Been busy?" He jokes, poking her like an angry bear. She just smiles and turns to go help a man sitting at one of the booths, making sure to raise a middle finger discreetly in his direction. He chuckles to himself, and takes the tray in back for the glasses to be washed. 

...

Castiel begins taking orders from whoever comes up to the bar, pocketing their generous tips, and making pointless conversation. Not even an hour in and he wishes the people would stop filing in through the doors. Order after order, a wink there, an number scribbled down there. He ignores it all, but is flattered. 

"What can I get for you?" Castiel asks nicely, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. As he walks up to the man that just took a seat at the very end of the bar. He stares down at his hands, running his thumbs together calmly. His lips pout out as he thinks, sandy hair long enough to fall into his face. The light catches the freckles littering his face. Castiel briefly thinks the man is beautiful. 

"Whiskey." Comes the gruff reply. a voice almost as low as his.

Castiel jumps back out of his head at the sound of the man's reply. His eyes flicker away now that he realizes how he had been staring. "Sure thing." he answers, his throat now incredibly dry. He whirls part way around and takes one step forward. He almost turns all the way around, but freezes when the man lifts his head enough for Castiel to see his face in the dim lighting. Castiel only just manages to hold back his gasp at the sight. The man locks his forest green eyes onto Castiel's blue one's, his brows furrowing slightly in annoyance, then his face finally setting into shock then fear.

He's not stunned into silence, because of the beauty of the man, no. Even though the man is extremely beautiful. He is stunned because one of those gorgeous green eyes that look up at him like giant scared saucers, is swollen and purple, threatening to close up completely. 

...

Tbc

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
"Sometimes the strongest among us are the ones who smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors, and fight battles nobody knows about."


	2. wondering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay another chapter posted....I'm sorry it's not as much action as I would like but we need to get through it...
> 
> Prepare for it to get intense next chapter;)
> 
> Xoxo

Castiel bites his tongue to keep from gasping, or even worse saying something stupid. Not even noticing that he'd taken a step back in shock, he tilts his head and squints down at the man in confusion. Trying to get a better look at the damage. He faintly sees a cut at the edge of his hairline and another one across his swollen cheekbone. And Castiel's not sure but he thinks he faintly sees bruising around his neck, but that could also be the shadows that dance around from the dim lights. Along with a million other scars littering what little skin the man has showing. Castiel's hands now shake where he fights to keep them at his sides, to himself. Fighting the urge to reach out and touch, heal. The bruise looks nasty, it's the darkest of purple outlined by red and yellow. Looks fresh too, like this man just got out of a pretty serious fight not to long ago. But when Castiel looks down to his knuckles, they're clean. Not one scratch or bruise across them. Castiel lifts his eyes back up to the mans face in confusion. 

Green eyes glare up at him, thick lashes shadowing his high cheek bones. Castiel's mouth moves soundlessly, he knows that he should say something, but his mouth refuses to form any words. There's a flicker in the other man's gaze, something Castiel recognizes as fear agin. Like a dear in headlights. But it's gone just as fast. In the blink of an eye, those green eyes are hard again. Of course Castiel's seen his fair share of bruises in here, it's a bar for gods sake. But he has never seen anything like this, and his gut is telling him this is different from any other ordinary fight, this is wrong.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." The man growls, his voice low and gravel like, sending tingling sensations through Castiel's bones. He jumps out of his thoughts with a shiver, and blinks away his thoughts. He stumbles over his next words, still keeping his eyes locked on the man before him "Umm, yeah, uh....sorry. I'll just go grab that drink for you." his cheeks immediately begin to burn, a bright red flushing throughout his pale face.

He can't seem to move quickly enough, embarrassment spreading through him like wildfire. He practically runs to the other end of the bar. Green eyes still burning like holes through his back. He skids to a stop next to meg, almost knocking into her in his fluster where she's working on drinks of her own. 

"Woah, what's got your panties in a bunch?" Meg asks, smiling up at him when she sees his red face. Castiel just shakes his head quickly, reaching for the whiskey above. He places the bottle down onto the counter, and points over to where the man is sitting. He refuses to look back over there, and see the look he just knows is on that gorgeous face.

He instead, works quickly on getting the whiskey poured, while meg pokes her head around him to where he had just pointed. "Where?" she sighs, looking back to Cas confusedly.  


He turns his body around so fast his head spins, and looks to where the man had just been sitting. The bar stool is now empty. The green eyed man that once sat there is gone. "Looks like you scared him off, Clarence." Meg teases, flipping around, tray in hand, giggling as she goes. 

Had he scared him away? 

...

When his shift is over, Castiel waves goodbye to Meg, turns out all of the lights, and heads out the back door with the garbage in hand. The air is freezing, fall turning to winter rather quickly now. Even though where they live is usually warm all year round, it sometimes does tend to get cold, and sometimes snows. He makes his way around the corner and into the alley way. He hugs his free arm to his chest, pulling his coat on further. The alley way is dark, the moon hidden behind the tall buildings. He struggles to see I such dim light, Castiel kicks rocks away as he walks up to the dumpster. When he throws the black plastic bags into the dumpster, he hears whispering. The murmurs of a man talking is distant, but sounds as though they are just further down the ally. Castiel steps back from the bin, and peeks his head around it, squinting in the dark. He can't make out much, so he begins to inch forward toward the sounds, and strains to see in the dark, making out a silhouette of a man. The man is leaning up against the brick, with his head in his hands.

He looks as though he's crying, with the way his body shakes, but Castiel can't quiet tell. He does make out that the he is talking to someone on the phone, clearly very upset.

He represses the hope he feels spreading in his chest. That it might be the green eyed man, that he might be able to see him again. That's just ridiculous, Castiel thinks to himself.

He inches closer, making sure to stay hiddin' in the shadows, and to be as quite as possible. He walks slowly, squinting and trying to make out the mans face in the dark. His feet slide across the concrete quietly, a couple of rocks skipping across as he kicks them. Castiel almost has a good look at the man, the streetlights beginning to light up his face. That is until he kicks a black bag of soda cans that someone must have left leaning against the brick. They spill everywhere, a rattling scratching noise echoing loudly through the alley way. Castiel jumps back, then freezes, like a deer in the headlights. He's caught, has to be, and he silently swears about the asshole that didn't throw the bag away. 

When he dares to look up again, the man is turned so that the light hits his face. And to his disappointment it isn't who he was hoping for. In fact it's just some older guy that looks to be homeless, doesn't have a phone either, he was just mumbling to himself. He exhales in relief, and runs a hand down his face, smiling at how ridiculous this all was. 

He can tell he's already obsessed with the green eyed man that had disappeared.

"Who's there?" The man yells walking towards Castiel's dark form, and the noise he just heard. He then takes the decision and runs the other way. He doesn't know what kind of weirdos could be out here. And he definitely doesn't feel like explaining that he was trying to stalk (god, would you call that stalking.) the attractive man he'd seen earlier, to some homeless man. A crazy homeless man that was whispering to himself just moments ago no less. 

He's completely out of breath when he finally stops next to his car. His nose frozen from the chilly wind and his fingertips numb. Castiel Looks back over his shoulder, and is relieved to see that the man had stopped chasing him. He jumps into his car, adrenaline still pumping through his blood. Still a little overwhelmed, he locks the car doors and drives off with a smile on his lips. 

...

Gabriel's mustang sits in the driveway when he pulls up to their shared apartment building ten minutes later. He pulls into the spot to the right of the green monstrosity, and throws his car into park. What was it about the green eyed man? How could a complete stranger make him act this way. Sure he was worried for the man, because he was clearly hurt. But then again, he could have had a completely reasonable explanation for why he had such a brutal black eye. 

So why does he still have a bad feeling about it. It was a black eye for hell sakes, nothing he hasn't witnessed before. And still he's uneasy, anxious to find the man again and find the reason. 

He runs a hand over his face with a sigh. Only thing he can do is wait, and hope for the man to show his face again. Even then he should really stay out of other peoples business. 

Who knows the man may never show his face again, then Castiel would have no choice but to forget about it.

The growl of the engine beneath him pulls him back from his thoughts. First things first, sleep, he needs to get some rest. Then maybe he can think straight and try to figure this thing out. Castiel looks up at their apartment building briefly. There are no lights on, which means his brother is already asleep. He must have an early shift at the bakery tomorrow. 

Castiel blows a breath out, then turns his car off, tossing the keys into his coat pocket. He makes sure to lock the Mercedes before he begins to head into the apartment building. 

The place seriously looks out of place, compared to the rundown buildings that surround it. For one it's larger than most of the buildings around. Then there's the fact that it's the only one complete with garages, gardens, large windows, and unharmed paint coating the outside. The place has only been here for about two years now, ever since he and Gabriel decided to move away from there family. There really weren't any other places for rent that didn't test positive for meth at the time they were looking either. 

So that's how they ended up with this place. Three bedrooms, two bath, garden, garage, and friendly neighbors. Of course the cost was more, a lot more, about the cost of a house pretty much. But it's not like they can't afford it, Dad didn't completely cut them off when they left. 

Sometimes he thinks that maybe his father just forgot about them, so he didn't bother to stop putting money into each of their banks. But then again maybe that's his way of trying to get them to come back to the family business. 

Castiel enters the large lobby, his teeth chattering from the cold outside. it's exceptionally warmer in here, the smell of cleaner filling his nose as he makes his way over to the gold carved elevator. His nose and fingers thaw out a little as he watches the numbers count down to his floor, little dinging noises coming out through the speaker as it moves down to the main floor. He rubs his hands together and looks around the lobby briefly. He notices the woman...What's her name. Jane. that's it.

She smiles at him from where she types on the computer, her cheeks turning rosy the longer he holds eye contact. His lip twitches slightly in greeting, the elevator's ding signaling it's arrival. he swings his body back around, just in time to see a few people exiting the elevator, leaving the large space empty.

He keeps his eyes from everyone that passes, too tired to acknowledge them. He steps into the box before him, the all to familiar music playing as he clicks the number 9. It lights up and the large doors close shut with another ding. It takes him up to the very top floor, and he steps out into his hallway, his eyes already feeling heavier by the second. 

The hallway's not too long, very few apartments on this level. Which is nice, he doesn't think he could have made it tonight if it wasn't. Never the less though, more gold lines the walls, and pictures hanging from the walls. it smells like cinnamon up here, which Castiel thinks they have to thank Gabriel for, the man bakes those things more than anyone he knows. Not that he's complaining either, because it could be worse. The hallway could smell the way Gabe's room does. 

He shivers making a face at the door in front of him. Castiel slots the key in the door, and walks into a pitch black apartment. The smell is stronger in here, he notices while he slips his coat and jacket off. 

He locks up the door behind him and drags his feet all the way to the kitchen. Where his suspicions are cleared. A large tower of pink boxes are stacked upon the table. Presumably filled with treats that Gabriel plans to sell at the bakery tomorrow. 

He passes through the kitchen completely, walking down the hallway towards his bedroom. Castiel doesn't bother with the light, he's lived here long enough to know the place by heart. The heavy curtains across his window prevent any moonlight from shining in. the only light he has to go by is a tiny light up light saber Gabriel gave him as a gift two Christmases ago. The tiny green light illuminates the very edge of his bed. Blankets strewn half off the comforter, covering a better part of his bed. He sighs, gathering up the covers and throwing them back onto the bed. Castiel then goes through his nightly ritual. He brushes his teeth, changes from his work clothes, checks the doors. Then finally face plants into his blankets.

....

Even though he's exhausted, he doesn't sleep. He tries to sleep, but eventually he just ends up staying awake most of the night. Tossing and turning of the thought of green eyes. The images flashing behind his eyelids every time he closes them. Turning back and forth to try and get comfortable, the sheets tangled around him like vines. 

When the dreams finally do come it is welcomed.  


.....

"Hey meg?" Castiel mumbles, loud enough for her to hear from where she stands in the lobby from across the bar.

He can't stand it anymore, he needs her help. It's been days since he's seen the green eyed man. The worry is eating him alive, it keeps him up most nights. And seeing as how meg works almost everyday, unlike him, he can't be here all of the time, it would be ok to ask her a small favor. Castiel is cleaning the counter as meg puts some chairs up and sweeps underneath. It had been a slow day today, only one or two costumers came in through his whole shift. She lifts her head giving him a questioning look. "Yeah?" She chimes back, hoping she didn't just agree to something she would regret. 

"Can I ask you a small favor?" he asks, raising his voice a little louder, twisting the washcloth he holds around his fingers.

He tries to look innocent so she will let him go on. Of course it isn't a big favor, but he still really needs her help. And in order to get her help, he needs to be careful with what he says next.

"Depends." She says after a moment of silence. she squints her eyes accusingly before going on "Your not going to ask me to help you with a murder or something? Are you clarence?"

He huffs a laugh "No."

That gets her full attention, she stands straighter, and places the broom down to place both of her hands on her hips. "Well, spit it out. I haven't got all day."

"You know that man, the one that was in here a week ago. You asked me what had me so worked up?" She raises her eyebrows, saying nothing so that he can continue talking. He huffs a sigh, setting the cloth down on the counter. "Well, I just.....I'm worried about him" She opens her mouth, but he cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "I can't explain it." He says keeping his hand up to show her to stay quiet while he finishes. He sighs again, lowering his gaze from her intense stare. "But can you tell me if you see him? Just keep an eye out for him." He flicks his gaze over the dark shining wood. He really needs this...he just needs to talk to the man, explain himself a little.

He almost jumps when Meg speaks again, voice softer than before. "Of course, anything for you." At that he dares to look back up, her expression has softened, like she understands.  


....

Castiel waits, for days, for any kind of sign of the man. Or hell, even a text from Meg. He knows she promised, so if she ever did get a whiff of anything she would get a hold of him straight away. But nothing comes, nothing ever comes. Every time his phone vibrates, he jumps for it, Gabriel raising his eyebrows in question. And every time someone enters the bar he stands on his tip toes thinking that maybe, just maybe that it could be him. Although it never is, of course, and some customers give him strange looks as he slouches down in disappointment. 

He begins to sleep though, which is good, he guesses. Even though his worry is replaced with fear, his dear sleep becoming interrupted as he starts to have nightmares. They consist of green so much green. And blood, bruises, screaming, such sadness that his chest hurts when he wakes in the mornings. 

He begins to have dark circles over the top of his dark circles. Maybe this is worse than when he wasn't sleeping. But then again he's just worried. 

About a complete stranger.

A stranger that probably doesn't even remember him.

Shit, he's in trouble, isn't he?

.....

It's Castiel's day off today, Gabriel's been planning all of the things that they are going to do on their day off. Which Castiel politely refuses each and every idea. Every one consisting of women and drinking. Castiel prefers not to meet that side of his brother, again. It's a horror show to watch Gabriel dress in his suit and play important business man to attract good looking women. 

So yes, he rather stay home, eat some of the leftover treats Gabe brought home and binge watch Netflix until his eyes bleed. 

Which is exactly what they do.

Gabriel stacks the coffee table with all kinds of different sugar, cookies, store bought candy, soda, and popcorn with chocolate chips. Castiel takes his seat on the couch, like a normal person does. While Gabriel drags his old blue bean bag out from his room, and places it right in front of the flat screen. He stretches across the thing like a cat, while Castiel adjusts himself so he can see over his brother's mop of hair. 

They pick a movie Castiel has never heard of before, but Gabe insists that it's the best thing on earth so he agrees. Castiel was never much into movies, not like Gabe and Anna had been. He just guesses that he just never had the time. Never really appealed to him the same way it does other people. 

The commercials start in with a new action film, a man racing through the streets in a black car. Castiel doesn't really pay any attention. A few bombs go off as Castiel watches Gabriel start in on the candy first, half of his beer already gone. He immediately snatches the popcorn up before his brother. Picking the popcorn out and leaving the chocolate chips for Gabe to enjoy. No matter, chocolate still clings to the salty corn and his fingers end up sticky. 

Gabriel snorts from his perch on the floor, and Castiel looks up confused. His brothers whiskey eyes are light with humor, his whole body twisted back so he's facing Castiel. He tilts his head, a little annoyed with Gabe's off sense of humor. "What?" He asks, dropping the remaining popcorn back into the bowl on his lap. 

Gabriel shakes his head, turning back toward the screen with a muffled laugh. "Dork." He coughs. Castiel picks up one of the stickiest pieces of corn he can find, and throws it at the back of his brothers head. Where it sticks to the back of his head, tangled in his hair. 

Gabriel doesn't move a muscle, even though Castiel can clearly see his shoulders shaking with laughter. After a moment he simply reaches back and grabs a hold of the popcorn, and pops it into his mouth with a groan. 

Castiel stifles his laugh, his attention drifting back to the movie as Gabe presses play on the remote with sticky fingers. 

....  
Everything goes smoothly, Gabe adding commentary every once and a while, the candy slowly disappearing, and the movie playing on. Castiel enjoys the film, it's different, but in a good way.

Until ten o'clock rolls around.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, pulling him out of the movie Gabe Is currently laughing hysterically at. He briefly wonders if he should just ignore it. But then it buzzes again, persistent, and he just knows that he can't ignore it. His stomach turns, half in excitement and disappointment as he pulls his phone out, and clicks open the message from Meg.

* FOUND HIM. HE JUST CAME IN. OR I THINK IT'S HIM. GET HERE.*

Castiel almost falls off the couch in surprise, his bright screen lighting up the room around him. He throws his things down, and stands up, sliding his shoes and coat on. 

"Cassie? What the heck are you doing? " Gabes voice booms from behind him, stopping momentarily, he almost forgot about him. Castiel turns back to Gabe, trying to think of a good lie. He's turned around on the bean bag, staring at him in confusion. 

"Umm. I'll be back later, Crowley just texted me, they need someone to cover a shift." He says easily, shrugging and turning back to the front door. 

"You always were a horrible liar." Gabe replies, turning back over, as the door closes behind Castiel. 

...

,  
,  
,  
,  
,  
"Sociopaths seek to dominate others and "win" at all costs. They hate to lose any argument or fight they will viciously defend there web of lies, even to the point of logical absurdity."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thank you so much for the kudos given.


	3. hide and seek

Castiel practically runs to the bar, his heart racing. He doesn't know why he is so happy to get to see this total stranger again, maybe to see that he's not dead somewhere in ditch, or hurt so bad to the point of no return. 

Or maybe because that means they have hope.

Castiel feels like he can't run fast enough, pushing through the back door so hard it smashes into the wall behind it. "Hey! What the-" Crowley yells after him. A distant concern in his mind right now as he yells back "Sorry." He keeps running anyway, not even bothering to glance back at the scowl he knows Crowley wears right now. He runs, until he's standing in front of the familiar double swinging doors. He stands there frozen, scared, and excited all at once. What is he going to say? what can he say...

Castiel breath hitches when he spots green eyes through the small window attached to the large door. He's in the very exact same spot he had sat the first time Castiel saw him. Still as beautiful as the day he walked in to the bar. The bruise has healed, which was to be expected, his face revealing more freckles than before. Castiel's palms sweat where he clenches them into fists, his mouth hanging open with his fast breath. He has to try to talk to him, even if he sounds like a complete idiot, or physco. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he pushes through the doors and starts towards him. Both butterflies and knifes swimming about inside his stomach. That is until he's tugged backwards by his sleeve. Castiel turns and swats at Megs hands, glaring down at the blonde haired girl. "What the hell Meg? What are you doing?" 

She covers his mouth with her finger then, and points over to the man beside green eyes on the bar stool. He is slender, tall, handsome, and kissing green eyes neck lovingly, holding his bronze hands in his pasty white ones. He's a lot older than green eyes, at least by ten years. His eyes are a cold kind of grey as he opens them briefly. Castiel's heart sinks, his throat closes and he almost shatteres into a million little pieces right then and there. How did he not notice him before? 

What can he do now? go back to his boring old life at home with gabe, but that doesn't seem right. It doesn't seem like that is it and he should give up, there is still something very wrong with this picture. Especially when Castiel watches those loving white hands of the slender man come up and caress green eyes neck. They push the collar of the mans shirt down, and to Castiel's horror they match the newly added purple bruises there perfectly, hiding them from the world around them.

Castiel is immediately revolted by the man, and now he thinks he knows why. Too shocked to do anything else, Castiel turns on his heel and marches back towards the exit. All the shock and horror turning into anger and rage towards the mystery boyfriend. He brushes past Meg, whispering a "thank you." before pushing through the large swinging doors again. The cooks give him strange looks that he ignores, as he passes them and makes his way down the dark hallway. Crowley is long gone by the time he opens the back metal door, which he is grateful for seeming as how he stormed in here like a crazy man. Castiel is sad that he had waited so long and couldn't even speak to him, hopefully he would get his chance soon enough, hopefully before it was too late.

...

As soon as the front door opens, Gabriel is there with a very unhappy look on his face. Castiel takes his coat off and places it on the hook beside the door, A scowl permanently etched across his face. He's really not in the mood for this tonight, but he had/has no right to keep this from his own brother. Especially with the way he has been acting lately.

"Ready to tell me the truth? Or are you just going to lie me again?" His brother asks taking a step towards Castiel with caution. He then gestures for them to take a seat on the couch for this. "Yes." Castiel replies after a moment, and after they are both seated next to each other. "First thing, i'm sorry for lying. And second i really did go to work, but not to work." He drags in a deep breath before begining again. He doesn't really know how to go on, without sounding completely crazy anyways.

"I was at work a couple weeks ago, and there was this man that came in. I went to take his order.." Castiel trails off. "And?" Gabe says, waving a hand for him to continue. "And he had a black eye, like he'd just been in a really nasty fight. But it didn't feel right, his hands, there were no cuts or bruises on them. I thought when you got in a fight your knuckles would look pretty bad." He runs a hand over his face, and looks over at Gabe. He sounds like a complete nutcase right now....

"Okay? So what? Tons of people get there asses kicked. What are you trying to say cassie?" His brother leans in a little closer, clearly interested, if not a little concerned. "Thats not it...he...he." He shakes his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Gabriel places a hand on his shoulder, clearly understanding what Castiel is trying to say.

" I just want to help, he needs help Gabriel." Castiel grabs hand fulls of the fabric of the blanket beneath him. How could a stranger he only ever talked to once be doing this to him? He needs to do something, like rip that sick fucks throat out that had been all over green eyes tonight, infecting him with his evil, his filth. 

Good lord he's insane. He has never been so violent or hateful before towards anything in his entire life.

Or Castiel could just take the green eyed man away forever. He doesn't know. All he does know is that he needs to help. He needs to do something. Or it just might make him go crazy. 

Then there's the possibility that he's wrong, that the man is okay. That the slender man wasn't the one who caused those bruises. That he was just a random flirt. Which still doesn't explain why his hands matched the bruises perfectly.

Castiel sighs in frustration, running his fingers through his messy hair. He's overreacting. 

He knows he's overreacting, maybe he just needs to get some sleep. Think this through a little more, before he does anything to drastic.

Gabriel stands from the couch, stretching out his back. He looks back to Castiel, with something he recognizes as understanding. "I think we both need to sleep. We will figure this out, if it is still bugging you tomorrow." Castiel wants to argue that it has been bugging him for weeks now, but decides against it as he yawns with exhaustion.

He just hopes he sees the man again.

....

Castiel drops into bed that night with no intention of sleeping. Gabriel insists that everything is going to be alright. He's one of those people who believes that everything happens for a reason. And he tries to ensure castiel of his beliefs as well. But he can't seem to make himself believe. He can lie all he wants, pretend that he knows what his brother is talking about. But it's not going to make the feeling in his chest better. It's not going to sort out all of whatever green eyes is going through. So why should he believe when he can do something about it. 

Castiel turns his face into his pillow, breathing in deep through his nose. Of course he can do something, he just has to figure out what, and how to do it. 

.

Dreams don't come easily when he finally does fall into unconsciousness. He tosses throughout the night, sweat soaking his pillow. His hair damp and his breath harsh as he tangles himself in further with his blankets. 

He dreams of white hands, cruel words, and freckles. None of it really makes any sense, but it leaves a certain feeling clawing at his chest when he wakes. Somewhere between anger and hoplessness. 

...

 

Castiel slowly blinks his eyes open, his chest heaving as he registers the sun peeking through his windows curtians. Gabriel must have opened them up this morning. 

He smells coffee as he sits up, which also means that his brother doesn't work today either. Castiel slowly drags himself out from under the covers, realizing that he had slept in his clothes last night. He huffs out a sigh and quickly changes into clean clothes.

He doesn't bother with his hair, he knows damn well that it's untamable anyhow. 

Gabriel stands in the kitchen, swirling a cup of cofffee in his mustache cup. He looks way too focused on the black liquid as he talks to someone on his cell phone. 

Castiel walks past him, taking notice in the amused look his brother gives him as he passes. He grabs himself a cup of coffee, then turns right back around and shuts himself into his room. 

Gabes voice booms outside of his room for another hour or so, before he hears the front door close and his mustang rumble away down the street. 

Maybe he was wrong, apparently gabe does have to work today. Castiel must have woke earlier than he originally thought. Because his brother doesn't leave work until about 7 am. 

Castiel drinks down the last bits of his cold coffee, then decides to go back to bed get some more rest before his shift at Crowley's tonight. 

... 

The bar's hot, the women are flirty, and the music is way too loud. Castiel manages to make it through his shift with fake smiles, and false kind words. Meg eyes him like she's just seen a ghost all night long. But that may be because of how jumpy he's been today. 

He's constantly on the lookout for green eyes. Hoping that even though it's only been a day, he'll come back. And hopefully he will be alone.

Then maybe castiel can devise a plan. He's pulled from his thoughts as meg hands him a tray of dirty dishes. Castiel looks down at the lipstick stained glasses and furrows his brows as he thinks. 

"Castiel?" Meg practically yells, smacking his arm for attention. He looks up in confusion, megs demeanor stiff and worried as she stares back at him. "What?" He answers, flicking his eyes and scanning the room for what feels like the hundredth time. No freckles. 

"What's gotten into you? You've been spaced out all night?" She says shoving in front of him and blocking his vision. 

"I-" he cuts off. He does not have an explanation for his behavior tonight. 

"Just distracted that's all." He answers, turning and pushing through the doors. He places the tray down onto one of the counters. One of the older men eyes him briefly before taking the glasses away."By what?" Megs voice comes, from behind him. He jumps in surprise, and whirls around. 

"Nothing in particular." He lies, pushing past the shorter women again and making his way back out to the bar. He takes an older ladies order, fills it, and she gives him a wink as he sets the drink down in front of her. 

He half heartily smiles in return, wiping some alcohol off of his fingers and onto his apron. 

"It's that man isn't it." She replies, settling her hands on her hips with a raised brow. 

Castiel swallows, glancing up as the door opens. A few men in leather jackets enter, obviously already tipsy. Their voices are loud even over the bumping music. One of the men, an older gentlemen leads the pack through the crowd. He makes a few remarks to some of the people in his line of vision, his buddies laughing at whatever it is he says.

"Clarence?" Meg whispers, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. 

"Do you think he's okay?" He asks, the words slipping from his lips. He stiffens looking over at megs soft eyes. 

"I'm so-" he starts to apologize, meg cuts him off. 

"Don't worry." She smiles, smoothing out her shirt. 

"I'm sure he's fine." She chirps, a small wavering smile on her lips.

Castiel sure hopes so.

Meg shoves playfully at his shoulder, grabbing his attention again as he starts to drift off. "Hey!" She says.

"I'm sure he's fine Castiel. He is a grown man. He can defend for himself." She smiles, her eyes glinting under the bar lights. Castiel half smiles back at her. His heart gives a painful twitch, an uneasy feeling still settling itself into his stomach. 

"Yeah." He whispers back, picking at his apron pocket. 

Meg pats his shoulder. "How about we go get a drink sometime?" She whispers, obviously detecting his stress. He turns his wondering gaze back to her. 

"I don't know.." He starts, a frown on his lips. 

"Not a date Castiel. Just friends. We haven't hung out for a while now, I would like some time to just talk." She explains. castiel let's out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. She laughs. 

"Okay." He agrees. 

"Okay." She repeats. "How bout' tomorrow? We both have off." she winks. 

Castiel shakes his head. "Sounds good." 

"Great." she chirps, pushing him again and twirling back around to the bar. 

Castiel straightens as the door bell jingles. A woman walks in with her friends. He tries not to be disappointed as he lowers himself back down, his gut twisting.

...

 

The same thing happens as the night before when he get's home. He changes his clothes into pajama's, brushes his teeth, checks the locks, and lays in his bed. Only to have no sleep overcome him at all for the first two hours. He stares up at the dark ceiling, his body exhausted but his mind running one hundred miles. He tries to quiet it seeming as how he has a 'date' with his friend tomorrow. But he finds that no matter how hard he tries, his mind always go back to green eyes, freckles, and bruises. He wishes he hadn't seen what he had, that the memory of that other man touching green eyes was never there. It leaves a foul taste in his mouth and a sour feel to his stomach. Even with the small chance of that being a random guy, it still leaves him feeling angrier than he ever has before. 

After what feels like eternity, Castiel falls into a familiar nightmare. One regarding white hands, freckles, blood and screaming. 

....

 

By the time his alarm blares from his beside table, Castiel is wide awake, and shaking with sweat. He can see the sun starting to poke through his curtains. Which means he should probably get up and get himself ready for the day. He hears Gabriel whistling from the kitchen down the hall, and the faint smell of bacon wafting to his room. Castiel wipes the sweat, and tears from his cheeks with the edge of a sheet. He seems to have kicked all of his blankets off last night, only leaving half off a sheet hanging from his mattress and tangled with his legs. 

Castiel sits up slowly, the shaking in his limbs seeming to calm just a little more. 

He recalls his dream, and shivers with terror. His stomach rolls as the green eyed man's screams echo in his ears, only a figment of imagination. He looks down at his shaking hands, and sighs In relief when he sees no blood on them. 

"Cassie!" Comes his brother's voice, from the kitchen. Castiel drops his hands from view, and throws the sheets from his legs. Swinging himself off of the edge of his bed, and standing up on shaky legs. "Are you going to sleep all day!?" Gabriel sing songs shortly after, his voice far to cheery this early in the morning. Castiel rolls his eyes, grabbing a shirt and a pair of jeans as he leaves his room. He doesn't bother to look at them because he doesn't really care. 

After a quick shower, and some time to think, he feels a lot better. He still has that deep ache in his chest, of fix it, help, heal. But he is able to function like himself again as the terror of the nightmare has faded. 

Gabriel sits in the living room now, his feet thrown on the coffee table, and mouthing the words to some cartoon Castiel doesn't recognize. His brother is still in his PJ's and it looks like he hasn't even brushed out his bed head yet. Which most likely means that Gabriel does not have to work today. 

Castiel slides his socked feet across the tile, and pours himself a cup of coffee in one of Gabe's star wars mugs. He closes his eyes and leans against the counter. He's still extremely tired, but if he goes back to sleep now he wont be able to sleep tonight. So he sighs and takes a sip of his steaming coffee. A small smile tilts his lips, Gabriel makes the best coffee. What would he do without his brother?

As if on cue Gabriel saunters in with an empty plate in his hands. He smiles wide at Castiel when he spots him. "Morning lil' bro. I was afraid that you weren't going to wake up." Gabe chuckles at himself, putting his plate in the sink. 

Castiel shakes his head. "Very funny, Gabriel. But I would rather not sleep in." He says seriously. Gabriel glances back up at him, with a raised brow, his hands already unwrapping a cherry flavored sucker. He pops the treat into his mouth. "I made omelets, yours is in the oven." His brother throws over his shoulder as he walks back out into the living room. 

He takes his food out of the oven and makes his way back to his room, texting Meg and asking her what time she wants to hang out. He assumes late, because they usually go drinking. So maybe he can get researching done in the mean time, or maybe hang out with Gabriel for a little while. He does know that they need to go grocery shopping. 

Meg texts back that she will be at his house to pick him up at 8 tonight. 

....

Castiel manages to drag his brother to the store, and buy almost a months worth in candy, along with actual food. Then him and Gabe go out for lunch, and come back to the apartment so that Castiel can tidy up the house and do some laundry. 

By the time he is folding the last batch, a knock comes on the door. And a text telling him to open his damn door right now, from Meg. He clicks his phones screen off and makes his way to the door. Meg stands there in a tight red dress, and a smirk plastered across her lips. Her eyes travel down from Castiel's face, her eyebrow raising slightly. 

"Hello, Meg." he greets, pulling the door open wider for her to come in. "Clarence." She answers back, as she steps into his house. There's a whistle from the couch where Gabriel sits. "Damn! someone's trying to get laid tonight. lookin' good Meg." She swings around to face Gabriel, and gives him a swift wink. "At least someone is." She starts. Castiel rolls his eyes, making his way to his room to grab his coat and shoes. He doesn't hear the rest of the conversation, as he goes into his room and slips on a pair of shoes, and his trench coat. 

He makes his way back into the living room just as Gabriel cracks some kind of joke that has Meg laughing. Her eyes crinkle, and her cheeks dimple slightly. Gabriel glances over at Castiel, as he walks in and gives him a thumbs up. "Lookin' good bro." 

Meg smile over at him now. "Yes indeed, Clarence. All of the men and women will be tripping over you." She whistles, an laughs when he gives her a glare. 

"Alright well, we better get going." She grabs Castiel's arm, and waves over her shoulder at Gabriel. "Bye! I'll bring him back safely." She jokes.

"Don't have too much fun Gabriel yells after them."

"Goodbye, Gabriel." He says as the door is closed after him. 

....

 

Overall the night with Meg goes well. He is still on the lookout for Green eyes, and freckles. But after a few drinks that is gone. He tells Meg about his nightmares, and his slight obsession over Freckles. She manages to listen, and understand, that doesn't stop her from calling him a little weird for his obsession. But Castiel can tell she is just joking around. 

...

At around two in the morning stumbles up to his apartment, after Meg drops him off. And surprisingly feels lighter, and less worried. He sleeps better than he has in days, and manages to have no nightmares at all. 

....

Before he knows it a week has passed, with no sign of green eyes or slender man.

Castiel worries.

....

Friday rolls around, marking the total of two weeks with no green eyes. He's gotten better with hiding his worry, his nightmares seeming to dull. 

He comes into work an hour early, intent to set up before the rush comes. Megs already there when he shows, sweeping up the floor, and setting the chairs up against the tables. 

She doesn't ask questions anymore, not after their night drinking. She seems to understand, which is exactly why she is Castiel's best friend.

Castiel waves, then sets to work.

...

Only an hour later and the place is booming with people. So much noise that he can feel a headache making its way into his eyes. The air is charged with electricity, music sending waves through the thick hot air. 

He keeps up his work, barely enough time to wipe down a spilled drink before another three people need a drink. Castiel tries to smile as he struggles to keep up with the tipsy people. 

The outside door constantly opens and closes, the gust of night air a relief as people hold it open for their friend to enter. Castiel recognizes a couple of the regulars there tonight, mingling with women. 

"Hey! Buddy!" Comes a small voice from the far side of the bar. Castiel finishes up the martini in his hands and hands it over to a skinny women. Her red lips spread over her teeth into a grin, a suggestive wink following after castiel. 

He smiles in return, then quickly makes his way over to the man standing at the bar. He waves a twenty in the air, a broad smile on his face. 

Castiel stops in front of the shorter man and raises an eyebrow. 

"Bout time. Thought that you were going to ignore this side of the bar all night." He laughs, his eyes sweeping over castiel once. 

"Sorry about that." He answers half heartily. The door jingles, cold air blowing over him. The man grins again, glancing behind him at his group of friends. They crowd around a too small table. They wave, some giving a thumbs up in their friends direction. 

Castiel switches footing getting impatient. The man flips back around with a broad smile. 

"Twenty shots." He pauses. 

"And your number." He grins, slapping the twenty down on the counter. Castiel raises his brows, his eyes flicking down to the twenty then back up to the grinning man. 

"Twenty shots." He repeats, spinning around and preparing the drinks.The man scoffs behind him, the door jingling again as its opened.

Castiel works back around and places the glass cups on the tray, pushing them towards the man. He frowns down at them for a moment, then shrugs, grins, and makes his way back to his friends. 

Castiel chuckles to himself stuffing the twenty into his apron pocket. He wipe his hands off onto his pants, then wipes down the sticky mess covering the counter. 

Just as the door jingles to signal it's opening, castiel manages to glance up. 

He freezes.

Green eyes.

He walks trough the large wooden door, a pale hand holding the huge thing open for him. His eyes track the tiles, his hands shoved deep down into his pockets. Castiel watches as slender man enters in after him, a broad smile on his lips as he slings a powerful arm around freckles. 

He whispers into his ear, quickly pulling back when green eyes snaps his head up. He laughs long and loud , the noise blurred out from the music. 

Castiel tracks them the whole way to their booth, his head and stomach a mix of relief and anger. 

They take a seat at a far booth, tucked in away from the crowd. Green eyes slides in first, slender man gesturing for him to scoot. Castiel watches as he drapes a long arm around green eyes shoulders, squeezing him into his side.  
Green eyes dissappear for a long moment, as the man closes his eyes against the music. He tugs on his long sleeve shirt, covering up his wrists, and warming his fingers.

Slender man whispers into the mans ear again, a smile gracing his lips once again. 

The mans green eyes snap open again, a blank look quickly following as he turns to stare up at the other mans pale face. 

The man smiles again, a few words leaving his lips. He tugs freckles hands towards himself, pulling the sleeves down himself, a little too harshly. Green eyes lower, and flicker closed briefly. He nods once, flashing a tight lipped smile back.

"Castiel!" Meg yells, waving him over. He glances back over, then goes over to help her.

...

Still unable to do anything but wait, Castiel goes on with his life. It was almost another week before he thought about giving up, not that he would. But he hasn't seen or heard anything about green eyes, and he was really starting to worry. Kept telling himself that this is not his business, that he should stop worrying, like that would help anyway though. Gabriel had also told him to calm down, that the man can handle it himself. But he can't, Castiel knows he can't, just by the way he moves around, like he's a dog on a leash. Or how he didn't keep eye contact, and that he left when Castiel noticed his bruise all that time ago. 

...

Nearing the end of the week green eyes has come back into the bar, a couple times actually, but with his 'master' holding the leash right behind. He never dared to speak to him when he had his boyfriend near by. Not because Castiel was scared of him, but because he was scared at what would happen to green eyes if he did. So he just kept his mouth shut and watched as those possessive hands ran over the top of freckled perfection.

Meg had to tell him to calm down some days, when Castiel got way to angry at the way he was talking to green eyes, or 'dean' was his name, and didn't even notice that he started to walk over to where they were sitting, with a scowl on his face. She always caught him, and pulled him out of his angry filled daze, before he actually hurt someone. Sometimes the man would raise his voice towards dean, making him lower his gaze to the counter, and tremble ever so slightly. He is barely holding his anger down when he sees the broken expression that comes when Dean angered his fuck head of a master. 

Castiel knows he might study them a little to closely, but he feels he needs to. Of course he just pretends he isn't staring at them when they catch his gaze locked on them. But if the man were to ever step away from dean for even a second, he would be there to scoop dean up and take him away. far away.

...

He is just closing up on one of those particularly angry days he had. Letting the steam be let out on cleaning, okay, scrubbing, scrubbing furiously. He'd let meg go home early because she wasn't feeling well, so he was here to do her job and his job. He doesn't mind, he needs something to keep his mind occupied. He is thinking too much of what they are doing now, now that Castiel can't keep a close eye on them.

Now that dean has a new bruise around his neck, and around his wrists, the ones that he had been trying to hide all day. But Castiel took notice alright, and the bruises were a deep purple around still bleeding cuts. Looks as though dean was handcuffed somewhere, and struggled against it, alot. Also taking notice when he came up to order drinks that his voice was hoarse when he spoke, points out he that he'd been screaming too.

Castiel's hands shake even more at the thought, how dare anyone treat another human being that way. How could you still snuggle up to that monster at night knowing he'd hurt you? over and over again! He's scrubbing so hard that the glass breaks beneath his palm and tears through the skin on his palm. with a hiss Castiel throws it into the sink, deciding that he is done and he is going home. Everything is done anyways, except for the garbage, wich he could easily do now before he left.

Without another word Castiel gathers them all up, not even bothering to cover his bleeding hand, and shuts off the lights. Making sure the door is locked like every other night, he walks to the dumpster. Again hearing the homeless man speaking to himself in the alley way, the man seemed to make that his new home. Castiel closes the dumpster and walks over to his car, digging in the pockets of his trench coat for keys, and unlocking the door of his silver Mercedes, he gets in and drives away.

...

Whilst sitting at a red light, he Remembers that gabe had texted him at work earlier to go pick up milk before he got home. Cas turns on his blinker to go right, down the road. He hasn't been down this road in fairly long time, mostly because Gabriel does the grocery shopping.  


But there are more houses than he'd remembered before. Definitely more graffiti littering the walls as well. There aren't many people out this time of night though, so When Castiel sees a man walking along the street he almost crashes into a car parked along the street.

Castiel blinks to make sure that was what he was seeing, before glancing at the clock, 3:30 am. What is this man doing walking around in such a bad neighborhood at 3:30 am!? There isn't very many homeless people around here, actually the only one hes ever seen is the crazy old man that hangs around by the bar in the alley. 

Castiel cranes his neck to keep staring at the man, as he drives past. When he gets around to see the front of the man, he stomps as hard as he can on his breaks. The car squeeling and protesting to come to a full stop so quickly. Once it's stopped, he throws it into park, and jumps out. Running towards the man, he is stopped when he notices the car coming to a halt, by the look in his eyes he is completely frightened by him. 

It's Dean, he has found Dean, and no one is with him. Castiel's heart thrums hard in his chest, he has to take a deep breath to calm himself. He starts slow, nearing Dean with precaution. Dean's staring at him with wide eyes, clutching his stomach, and backing away from Castiel. "Wh..wha..what do you want?" comes the wavory voice from those perfect lips. He stops walking towards dean now, realizing how frightened he is, and Dean stops scooting away. "Um, sorry i just, i saw you walking. You know these streets are really dangerous at night." He mentally kicks himself, he's making this worse, way to sound like a rapist, "I was just wondering if i could give you a ride?" He smiles a little at dean, but gets no reaction back, just blank staring, like he isn't sure if he's aloud to speak. "No. I'm fine" he backs away again, looking around him for help, Castiel guesses. He doesn't want to come off as some creep, but seeming how dean is reacting he failing at that task.

"Wait..I just i saw you at the bar earlier, where i work. And you just look like you needed a ride, i'm not trying to be creepy or anything i swear." Castiel shrugs, Cringing at his own words. He takes two more steps forward, so that he can see dean's face, and frowns when he sees the blood leaking from a small cut above his eyebrow, and one above his cheekbone. He almost reaches out when he sees the tear streaks across his cheeks, and the once beautiful green eyes are puffy and red. "Oh my god.." he whispers, reaching his hands forward. "Don't touch me!" Dean snaps like a hurt animal, jerking back away from Castiel's reach with a grunt of pain, clutching his stomach tighter. "Don't touch me." he whispers again, lowering his gaze to the ground.

"Okay, alright i'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help." he raises his hands to show that it's okay, and dares to take one more step forward."I'm not gonna hurt you." he reassures. "Yeah, right, everyone does." Castiel almost doesn't hear him, not sure if that was for him to hear or not. He waits until dean raises his eyes again, before stepping forward once more, and reaching out to touch his shoulder. Dean doesn't jerk away this time, just stares at Castiel , waiting for the blow he just knows is coming his way. "I just want to help." Castiel whispers again loud enough for dean to hear. He lets out a humorless laugh, and then more tears come down his freckled face. "Can you even help?" Dean asks, with a broken expression. 

"Just leave me alone" Dean pulls back again. "Just let me help you." Castiel replies quickly, calmly, while trying to meet those green eyes again. Another huff "Here i am, talking to a complete stranger, asking for help like a child." he shakes his head, grabbing at his shirt uselessly. "Fuckin' pathetic." he whispers, or more likely whimpers. Castiel glances around, then makes the split second decision, and grabs dean, pulling him into the tightest hug he can manage. Castiel can't take watching him there, all he needs is someone to care for him, to need him, to want him, to love him. He ignores the way dean desperetly tries to push him away.

He shouts and curses at Castiel, kicking, and slapping at his chest. Heaving in desperate breaths as his chest constricts. He just Hugs dean tighter, and waits.

Before long Dean stops struggling and cries, really cries into Castiel's shirt. Clutching at his coat in desperate need for this, like he was starving for any kind of affection. Even if it was from a man he had just met on the street. And Castiel just lets him. Because to be honest he'd also been craving Deans affection, he needs to comfort him, hell, he's needed to do this for a long time, ever since he's first met him. Dean starts to quite down a little, well actually alot. Good thing Castiel has a hold of him too, because only a moment later Dean collapses into his arms.  


,,...,,

Castiel drives home, with Dean unconscious in the passenger seat, forgetting all about his milk run. He doesn't know were Dean lives, of course, so he's headed home. He hasn't moved for the whole ten minutes it took to get him into the car or the other five it took to get to the house, and Castiel is starting to worry. How is he going to explain this one to Gabriel?

He parks the car next to Gabe's, then goes around the other side to get Dean. Grabbing either side of Dean's armpits and lifting carefully enough not to hit his head. Once Dean is out Castiel shuts the door with his foot, feeling Dean jump in his arms a little at the sudden noise. He stops to make sure he didn't awake, surely enough his eyes are still closed when Castiel checks.

He stands there awkwardly for a moment, trying to think of a way to get Dean to his apartment, without anyone asking questions.

Once Castiel finally manages to get Dean upstairs to his apartment, he knocks three times so Gabe will know it's him. Seeming as how it's 4 AM. But sure enough Gabriel emerges minutes later, with messy hair, in his boxers, yawning and rubbing his eyes sleepily. Until of course his eyes focus on Castiel, then flick down to Dean in his arms. His eyes widen and he opens the door wider for Castiel to enter. "What the heck Cassie?" Gabe whispers from behind him, as they walk towards Castiel's room. "I'll explain later, just help me get him to the bed." 

Dean has started to mumble and move his a feet, not fully awake yet, but he would be if they don't hurry up and get him laid down. Gabe takes the other side of Dean to help lie him down. "Alastair please, i'm sorry. No more." Dean mumbles, the words hardly understandable with how he is slurring them. Gabe then gives him a weird look "What in the hell did you get yourself into?" His brother asks, a note of terror in his soft voice. Lowering Dean to the bed, Castiel looks back over to Gabe. "I told you he needed help." is all he says before looking back down to were Dean lay. His face is sad, his eyebrows drawn together in worry, and even though he was asleep the tears continued to flow out onto his face. "No more." Dean whispers again, less slurring this time. 

"Cassie come on talk to me." Gabe places a hand on his shoulder, concerned eyes tracing his face.

,  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
"Monsters are real, ghosts are real too, they live inside us, and sometimes, they win."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how im doing. And i do realize that this chapter is kinda short, but i will try and make them longer.


	4. found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> songs.
> 
> * when you break-by- bears den.

The tiny sobs that escape the man lying before Castiel are broken, and muttered along with 'sorry', and 'please', or 'help'. He's in a fetal position, the blankets he'd placed over him earlier, were now tangled between his bow legs. Castiel has noticed blood seeping through his T shirt as well, and hasn't removed his eyes from him for almost an hour. Him and Gabriel are talking everything through while listening to Dean mumble in unconsciousness. They talked about how they are going to explain to Dean how he got here, why he is in his bed, and maybe even ask him to stay for a liittle while longer while he healed. 

They don't know how extensive Dean's injuries were, but they will find out soon enough. With the way Dean's curling into himself, Cas knows it has to be pretty bad. And he isn't going to listen to him in pain any longer than he needs to. 

Without wasting any more time Castiel moves toward the bed, taking notice in how Dean jumps when he sits down next to him. "Alright, its okay, im here to help." He whispers, placing a hand on Deans fourhead. "He's warm." Castiel observes, a little louder to Gabriel, who is now standing at the end of the bed, with a worried look splayed across his features. "Okay Dean i'm going to need you to roll over on your back for me." he is surprised at how fast Dean complies, but not without a whimper escaping his throat. "Gabe can you help me get his shirt off?" He asks looking back to his brother, who had taken a couple steps forward.

"I'm gonna need you told hold him sitting up while i take his shirt off." 

Gabe nods, Taking a few more steps towards the bed. His brother climbs on the bed and sits next to him, then places his hands under Deans arms lightly, freezing up when Dean gasps in pain. He waits for a minute, looking over to Castiel for conformation. Taking a deep breath in Gabriel holds him more sternly and hoists him up into a sitting position. Castiel startles back a little when Dean screams from the sudden movement. The smell of blood is strong in the air. But they need to get this done so Castiel ignores the sobbing, and the pleading. He grabs His green shirt form the bottom and Lifts it off with ease, being carefull enough not to damage the already damaged. The shirt sticks to Deans skin a little from the already dried blood. But once he gets it up to Deans shoulders it rips completely free, With a sick crackling noise. And thats when Gabe gasps, jumping a little from were he sits next to Castiel. He almost loses his grip on Dean, and looks away for moment, taking deep breaths in "Oh god Cassie, its bad."

He just nods, because he knew it was going to be bad, and he can't muster any words right now in return for Gabriel. When he gets the shirt completely off, He tosses it aside, somewhere near the door of his room. He gets his first glimpse of just how bad Dean is, a knot developing in his stomach. He thought he was perpared for this, but clearly he isn't. Dean's skin is almost completely black, bruises littering his whole torso, there are also cuts where the bruises had split open from to much pressure. Dean's back is the same as his front, except there are bigger cuts along his shoulder blades and sides. Worst part is everything looks fresh too, like he really did something wrong, for the 'fucker' he knew as 'master', to do this to him. Castiel takes in a deep breath, and looks up to his brother "Okay just, um, keep him right there. I will go get some supplies."

Gabe nods at him in return with big fearfull eyes. He stumbles with shaking hands to get off of his bed, standing up on unstable legs, and taking just a couple more deep breaths. He all but runs out of the room, refusing to look back on his brother or Dean. He feels like he is going to be sick, he isn't even out of his bedroom before he feels the first tears start to flow down his cheeks. His stomach is in knotts, and he tries to swallow down the lump in his throat to keep from really sobbing. He can barely even see through the tears as he reaches the bathroom, leaning a heavy hand on the doorframe and clutching at his spasming stomach. Deep breaths. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then stumbles on numb legs into the bathroom. He kneels Digging through the cupboards for some medical supplies, and washcloths.

How could you treat someone so poorly...how could you whisper i love you's in there ear after what you did to them. Castiel knows people had abusive partners, but he never thought of them to deeply. He also didn't think it was this exstensive, to the point of almost beating them to death, then leaving them on the street like a used toy that broke. Or more likely been broken for a long time...how could you rest that weight onto there shoulders, or even think that it was okay. that it was okay to treat them as if they didn't matter, to anyone, even the one and only that was supposed to protect them, to hold them, to love them. The man he had just broken looks like he was already broken when he started, but now was dealing with yet another tragedy. 

Castiel cant imagine what it had to be like, to fall deeply in love with someone, only to find out they abused you. And why? Because they love you? Because they care about you? No. That's not it is it. There isn't any reason to trap him like that, like he's property for you to trash and do with as you please. To be stuck in a room that keeps closing in on you by the second, a simble of your life running out.

He gathers everything up, and cleans himself up, before walking back to the room with arms full of everything he thinks he might need. When Castiel reaches the door he pauses, looking in on what is happening. Gabe's now running his fingers through Deans hair, while Dean slumps forward into his chest mumbling "I love you." queitly . Castiel knows Dean doesn't know who he's talking to. But that sends a knife through his heart, he loves the bastard that did this too him, that caused him so much pain and struggling. He loves him.

...

Come around 5:00 am. they have Dean all patched up and sleeping in some clean clothes. After a full hour of screaming, and mumbling, and tears, Cas is exhausted. But he doesn't want to leave Dean alone either, so he makes a bed on the floor, closest to Dean of course. Once he is layed down, he doesn't mind the hard floor, and falls asleep quickly. 

His dreams, are filled of dean.

...

His eyes open with force, the tears have dried and acted as glue. His whole body hurts, which is expected, and doesn't hurt as bad as it had yesterday. He keeps quiet when the pain shoots through his chest when he lifts his arm to rub at his crusty eyes. And once he opens them back up he sees, really sees. He isn't in his room! in fact he has never seen this room in his life before. And to top it all off he can't remember what happened last night, just blue eyes...then darkness. What the hell did the creepy guy to do him while he was out? 

Dean jumps again when he hears snoring next to him, or below him? when he looks off the edge of the bed there is blue eyes, spread out across the floor, sleeping. He huffs a sigh of relief when he notices they were both fully clothed, although these aren't Dean's clothes. He does remember talking to the strange man, after Alastair had beat him off the side of the road and made him walk the rest of the way home. He'd really pissed Al off last night, after the bar Dean told him that he didn't like how rough Alastair has gotten with him, that he wanted his old Al back....

The old Al that would hold him close at night, tell him he loved dean. The one that brought flowers, and kissed dean sweetly, the gentle hands that carresed his body lovingly. When he treated Dean as if he were the most prized possesion in the world. The al that saved him from his father, that made him take the barrel of the gun out of his mouth.The one that thought dean was worth something....

Of course he didn't like that statement at all and pulled the car over, dragging Dean out by his hair and onto the concrete. kicking him when he was down, telling him how ungratefull he was, how useless. Dean already knows how pathetic he is, but it hurt for Al to say it to his face, to bring it out into the open. He didn't fight back either, just lied there and took his punishment, he deserved it after all. Once the pain did begin to come to much Dean just told Alaistar how much he loved him, and he did, he loved Al with all his heart. No matter how many times he had to take the beating for it, he would, anyday. With Dean saying it over and over agian Al began to ease off a little bit, and eventaully completely stopped. Looking down at Dean with disgust, he told him to think about what he's done and walk home. He just nodded to show Al he understood, then he was watching the cars tail lights dissapear down the street.

Thats when he stood up and began to walk, for almost two hours, staggering and clutching at his broken ribs. Every once and a while stopping to cry, throwup, or just rest from the ever lasting pain radiating throughout his aching body . Untill he saw the car screech by him, and pull over to the side of the road a little ways up the dark street. Dean just froze were he was, because he knew that he was in a bad neighborhood, but didn't think anyone would be awake at this time of night. He also remembered the man in the trench coat trying to give Dean a ride, and oh god...did this man ever give up? Why did he want to give him a ride so badly. At first the man came off creepy, staring at him, like he could see into his soul, those blue eyes taking everything that was Dean up into his mind. But after a little longer Dean relized the man was just trying to help, it was hard to believe that that was all the man wanted from Dean. It was hard to believe that someone just wanted to help, to be gentle with him. Dean definetly was a stranger to it, has been ever since his mom died at the age of four. 

But when the man pulled him in for hug Dean couldnt hold it in anymore. It was building and building untill the wall began to tumble from all the pressure. He thought it would be okay to just be held, even if only for a moment. He knows he needed to get back to Al before he got angry again, he knew he needed to apologize too. That was before darkness over took averything. Dreaming of gentle hands, and kind words.

Of course he wasn't crazy though, he has to get away from these people and back to Alastair, before it's to late, and he can't be forgiven. So Dean manages to push himself up into a sitting position, feeling the cuts re-open and leak more blood onto his clean shirt. He looks over to make sure he hadn't made to much noise, and woken up the man on the floor. Dean crawls off the bed and walks over to the door, looking back to make sure he is still asleep. Then he turns the nob, cursing when the door squeaks as he opens it wide enough to squeeze through. The hallway is short, leading straight into the kitchen, then into the living room. When Dean peaks around the corner from the kitchen to the living room, he sees another man sitting on the couch, reading. His hair is long and brown, like sammy's, sam...

Dean pushes that thought far far away, and looks to were the front door is. To be able to get to the door he has to pass right in front of the man on the couch. He curses under his breath again, and turns out of veiw, how is he going to escape this place, are they holding him hostage? No, they couldn't be, he would be handcuffed or tied down if they were. Damn it why does this have to be so damn difficult, why can't he just be with Al still, why did he have to piss him off. Dean closes his eyes, and grabs the bridge off his nose, trying to clear his head. How is he going to get out of here without being noticed?

He jumps and his eyes fly open, when he feels a hand come down on his shoulder. He jerks back from the touch like he's just been shocked "Don't fucking touch me." he yells. Noticing that the man in front of him was the man he had just seen sitting on the couch two seconds ago. The man throws his arms up "Woah, hey calm down. Im not going to hurt you." "yeah" he laughs, humorlessly, looking down "You guys keep saying that." when he looks back up those brown eyes are soft, understanding. He soon sees blue eyes aprouch them, staring at Dean in wonderment. That fucking creepy way he sees into Dean, Like Dean's the most amazing thing he has ever laid eyes on before. Dean holds his stomach nervously, he just wants to go home and cuddle up with Alastair. But of course he is stuck here, with two men that kidnapped him. Without explaining anything either, he points out. 

"Hey we are just trying to help." comes the familiar voice from last night, the man stepping closer to dean. "Right? That's why you kidnapped me and brought me to your house!?" Dean snaps back, pressing his body closer to the wall, trying to put space between him and the men. Blue eyes tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes at Dean, like a curious dog. "No." He states with no hesitation. "Thats why i saved you. You passed out in me arms last night. Did you just expect me to leave you there?"" his voice is clipped and angry, getting to the point. Dean glares "Yes! That's exactly what you should have done." he yells, wincing as another cut rips open. "I helped you, you should be gratefull. And since i didn't know where you lived i brought you here. I was not about to let you freeze out on the street, especially in the condition you were in." this time his voice is angry, making Dean cringe back slightly. The man steps closer now, into Dean's personal space. 

"Castiel calm down." says the man behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, only to have it shrugged off again. Dean looks down to see 'cas'' hands clenching and unclenching into fists, while he clenches his jaw. "Do it!" he yells again, making eye contact with those fury lit blue eyes. Then something unexpected, his eyes soften, and he shakes his head 'no'. What? He's not going to hit Dean.....why? 

His expression then turns sad "You can leave if you want, i can give you a ride home. Or more preferably, you can stay." Dean stops and thinks for a moment, his decision coming quickly. "I want to leave." He says, watching Cas' face drop even more, his eyes getting shiny. "Okay." he whispers, turning his back to Dean and walking into the living room. He begins to put on his trench coat, the one from last night on. "No, you dont have to take me. I..I want to call my boyfriend. He'll come get me." He panics through the words, in no way was he spending more time than he had to with this stranger. "Do you have a phone, i left mine..." come on, Dean make up a lie "At home" stupid....so fucking stupid. "Yeah, you can use my cell." says the other one, the one that looks like sammy....

"Thanks" Dean chokes out, guess there not holding him hostage. He takes notice that Cas takes his coat back off, and is now sitting on the couch staring down at his hands quietly. Dean swallows nervously, switching to foot to foot, waiting for the man to come back. So he could get out of this place, away from these people. "Here" comes the voice he'd been waiting for. Dean turns to the man, and smiles a little to say thank you, then takes the phone. Immediately dialing Alastair's number in and raising the phone to his ear, still shifting back and forth, holding onto his stomach. He watches the man walk over to Cas and sit down, they start talking when Dean hears the second ring. 

What is he going to say? How can he explain this to Al without making him mad? He is so fucking dumb, why does he have to do this to AL? When Al has been nothing but good to him. Giving him food, shelter, love, he was sorry so very sorry. Dean swallows the lump in his throat trying to keep himself together./p>

"Hello? who is this?"p>

"Alastair, baby. I'm sorry" Dean sobs through the phone as soon as Alasitair's voice hits him, making his words jumbled and frantic. 

"Dean!? Dean, is that you?" 

"Yeah, its me." Dean sobs again, ignoring the pair of eyes watching his every movement.

"Where the hell are you!? Ive been looking for you all night!" 

"I know....Im sorry."

"No! you dont know! what in the hell is wrong with you?"

"I don't know." he whispers. Im pathetic, worthless, not worth it, complete fucking garbage, for starters. Cas has moved closer now, standing next to the couch. Only a few inches from were Dean stand in the kitchen, with a worried look on his face.

"Where are you?! I'm coming to get you." Alastair yells, ruffling noises coming from the background.

"I...I" Dean stutters, looking around frantically, catching Cas' eyes for a few seconds.

"DEAN! answer me now." Al screams again, Dean is in for another beating when he gets home. He is shocked with how much Al sounds like his dad right there.

"I dont know." He replies truthfully, more tears rolling in hot streams down his face.

"Don't fucking lie to me dean! are you really going to do this today? ive been worried all night..and now your too fucking dumb to know where you are! i knew i shouldnn't have fell for you, your worthless dean. Anyone else would be so lucky to be in your place, and here you are, i picked the most pathetic!" Al huffs a frustrated sigh.

Dean chokes out another sob, curling further into himself, feeling as if his whole world is spinning a little to fast. like he is going to pass out at any moment, his knees threaten to buckle beneath him. He has to brace a hand on the wall next to him for support. And after a few more moments he feels as if he is going to puke.

"Dean, baby, answer me. Where are you?"

.....  
.  
.  
.  
"It's not the goodbye's that hurt. It's the flashbacks that follow."


	5. lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry its so short:/ 
> 
> next one will hopefully be longer

They sit in silence on the couch, a man on either side of Dean. Castiel sits on his right, and Gabriel on his left, exchanging worried looks every few seconds. Dean can hardly hold still, he is so anxious to go home and make up to Alastair. After the few minutes on the phone, AL had calmed down, and apologized to Dean. After he told him where he was, and how he got there.

Dean had cried for a few minutes after the phone call, mostly because he was happy that he was leaving and didn't have to be in this house anymore. These people are way to nice to be true. "You okay?" Castiel asks, finally breaking the silence. Dean turns and is met with honest blue eyes, looking over him frantically like Dean's a hurt animal. Cas is just a little to close for Deans liking, he can feel Cas' warm breath across his lips. He doesn't even notice when Gabriel clears his throat, and gets up off the couch, walking into the other room. Those blue eyes never leaving Deans, he can feel his cheeks getting hot and his stomach do little flips of excitement.

Cas leans in ever so slightly, placing a hand on deans thigh, running his hand up and down firmly. His eyes flicker down to Deans lips, and he licks his own. Any thought of pulling back is tucked somewhere deep enough to ignore. Cas leans in further, his top lip brushing against Dean's, hot breath ghosting over his lips. Dean takes one last look, and his forest green eyes flicker closed. 

The sudden knocking sends Dean jumping backwards, away from Castiel. Dean looks down in embarrassment, suddenly regretting letting Cas in too close. He makes a promise right then to never do that with anyone but Alastair, because he loves Al, and could never betray him like that.

Now that Al is here, Dean doesn't want to leave, he has gone through a whole day without being hurt in any kind of way. To be honest, he kinda liked it, and he kinda likes the blue eyes sitting next to him. 

Pushing that though away, Dean watches as Gabriel walks over to the door, looking back at them once. Before turning and taking a deep breath. He reaches for the door handle, and opens it. Revealing an angry looking Alastair behind the heavy metal front door.

"Hello." Gabriel says, in a unsympathetic voice, giving Alastair a glare before turning and gesturing for him to come in. Alastiar nods, never even making eye contact with anyone as he steps into the room. He quickly scans around the room, until he finds Dean. Locking eyes immediately, Dean cowers back into himself. He knows he's in trouble from the look on Al's face, he just prays to god that he doesn't make a scene in front of his... 

His what? Savior.

Castiel stands from beside Dean, and walks over to Alastair, blocking his view of Dean.

"I'm Castiel, the one who saved your so called boyfriend over there." His voice clips angrily. "You do realize he was pretty badly hurt when i found him?" CasTiel accuses, and glares, standing tall.

Dean then decides to stand, he's concerned what exactly Cas.....or Castiel thinks he is doing. "Dean sit down." Alastair commands, his eyes never leaving the blue eyed man before him. He immediately complies, sitting back down on the couch stiffly. "Yes, and i thank you for that. But now i will be taking Dean home with me." He booms again, Dean jumps back from the voice, he knows that tone and it is never a good sign.

Alastair locks his cold eyes onto Cas' fury lit blue ones for a moment. They seem to have a standoff, a moment where nothing happens as they glare holes into each other. 

Without any more to say, Al walks past Castiel to were Dean is sitting. He offers out his hand to Dean, and he complies, clasping onto Alastair's cold finger. He raises Dean to his wobbly feet, his gaze still trained on the other men inside the apartment. Dean keeps his head down, not wanting to watch the rest, he doesn't know if he wants to cry or lash out in anger. So he lets Al drag him by his wrist to the front door, not sparing either men that saved his life a glance, or a goodbye. He just keeps his head down like the good boy he is. "Dean go to the car, i'll be down in a minute." Alastair says, grabbing Deans chin and tilting his head up so he can see his face. 

The thing that surprises him most is that he shakes his head no. "Please Al, baby. Just let it go. Lets go home." Dean prods, pulling on Al's arm lightly. Silently telling him to follow him out the door. "Dean. I wont ask again. Car. Now."

Like a wounded dog, putting its tail between its legs, Dean leaves the apartment, and does as he is told. He isn't even half way down the hallway when he hears the screaming. Bringing flashbacks of his mom and dad, fighting with each other for hours. while Dean watches from around the corner. Crying silently to himself as he watches the screaming match between his parents. It was a lot like right now, even though Dean is given a strict order to go down and get in the car. He doesn't, he stays, peeking around the corner, as the yelling continues.

"You can't get away with this you sick bastard!" Castiel screams, echoes of the rumble rushing down the hall way.

"Watch me." Alastair snaps. "This is none of your concern, neither is it your job to say what i can and can't do." 

"It is my concern, in fact it's way past your rights. You can't treat a human being like that. Leave them on the street, your lucky i'm not getting the cops involved. You. Sick. Fuck."

"Where's your proof? Only thing you know is Dean was left on the street. And the cops wont touch this, they've got bigger fish to fry."

CasTiel is quite for a moment, the sudden sillence making dean shiver from where he stand.

"Oh i'm sure i can find something." Castiel speaks back, calmly, a clear note of cockiness in his tone.

"Oh." Al cheers back sarcastically.

"And before i leave" A pause...

Then a bang, Gabriel yelling in the background.

"Touch _my_ Dean again, and there'll be hell to pay." His nasally voice threatens, Dean's stomach drops.

There's a loud slam of the door being closed, and then angry footsteps coming down the hall. Dean's eyes go wide, and he runs.

 He manages to make it to the car before Alastair does. He tries to slow his breathing before Al notices that Dean hadn't obeyed him. He sits quietly for a moment, slowing his breathing. Then Al opens the driver side door, and hops in beside Dean, not even acknowledging Dean's existence. He's clearly angry, but not at him, or at least he hopes not at him.

He completely ignores Dean the whole ride home, won't even look at him. Even when he speaks to Alastair, apologizes to him, touches him, he gets no response in return. Dean swears he can feel his heart plummet into the deep blue ocean every time Al pulls back from his touch. This is worse than being punished, this is worse than all of the rude words shouted at him. He won't even look at Dean, like Dean is some disgusting abomination, that will burn his eyes out of his skull if he does look, or like he isn't even there at all. But he is here, and he really needs Al to say something, to do something, even if it is out of anger. It would be better than this.

Dean just stares over at Alastair, trying to figure out what he did wrong. He has too swallow constantly to keep from puking, or worse crying. The lump only seeming to get bigger as the silence drags on. "Alastair?" he tries again. Once again getting nothing back but an angry growl, that was something though. Dean rubs nervously at his hands, finally giving up, and staring down at his fingers. The rest of the drive is quiet.  
...

Once parked in the middle of the driveway in front of there house, Alastair finally breaks the dreaded silence between them. "Get out. go inside, and don't leave, i will be home later." he says smoothly, not even bothering to look over at Dean. He  _needs_ those eyes on him, needs them desperately. "Okay." he replies with a shaky voice.  **I**   **need** you, I **need** YOU **to touch me** , **to look at me** **!** went unsaid, as Dean gets out of the car, and watches it leave.

He turns around towards the small brown brick house, their house, the one that used to be beautiful. The one that they used too sit out on the porch together, just talking for hours. Mostly about getting old together, about there future life together. They stayed out for hours, until the sun came up, or one of them fell asleep. That was the first place Al had told dean he loved him, and the first time Dean said it back. The house was old now, the fence they had painted together was falling apart. The flowers they planted, to represent the growth of there love for each other, have died, turning brown and falling to the ground. Even there initials have faded away into the earth.

Dean walks up those familiar steps, stopping at the front door for a moment, and then stepping through. All the memories they've created together, good, and bad, come rushing back. The smell of it is a sweet apple smell, picked out by Al, when they first moved in together. The couch sitting in the living room, a treasure they found at an yard sale one morning. The color of the walls almost matching Alastair's eyes. Of course there were bad ones too, but Dean tries to push those out of his mind as much as possible.

,  
.  
.  
.  
.  
"Great spirits have often encountered violent opposition from weak minds"

But this was his home, their home, and he isn't going to let a stranger with blue eyes take it away from him.


	6. scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> still adding on:) 
> 
> i hope you guys are still reading this!

Just because you understand whats happening behind closed doors, doesn't always mean you understand the full extent of what is happening inside that person's mind. Some things are not for you too understand, until you have walked a mile in there shoes. That's why no one understands why Dean stays, why Dean stays with someone that hurts him, punishes him. He has been asked that question, many times before, and no answer has came to his lips, just tears in his eyes. He hasn't even thought about why before, he has never even questioned it. He stays because he loves AL? he stays because he doesn't want another person he loves to abandon him? or maybe its because he can't leave. He can't face the world all alone.

There are many answers to your question, but none will satisfy you, not really. Because everyone wants a happy ending, they want to be loved, and have somebody to call there own. No one wants to walk this earth alone, without a purpose of some kind. And not exactly everyone have found there path. We weren't put here for no reason at all, we were put here for a great unknown purpose. And we won't know that purpose until its standing right in front of you.

And Dean thinks he has found his purpose. He found it, when he lowered the gun from his mouth, nearly two years ago. And stood before Alastair, the man he loved. The day there was actually light at the end of the tunnel, and not the way he had tried to get to it. Just a little bit of weight was lifted off of his shoulders.He was Finally seeing that he was worth something, to someone. All his life being pity'd on, and used, abandoned. It was all thanks to Alastair, for taking the gun away, and putting hope where it should have been all along. His Al, his one and only, the one he would take a bullet for.

This is what Dean thinks about while waiting for Al to come back from his strange trip. An hour ago he left Dean on their driveway, and since then he has done nothing but worry. Of course he is coming back....right? he wouldn't just leave Dean, that wasn't like him. He has tried to get his mind off of that thought all night, because he wouldn't be able to face it if it was the truth. That would be the last and final thing that would tear Dean limb from limb painfully. It would squeeze his heart until there was nothing left to be given up. His whole world would come tumbling down, and there is already barely anything holding it up anymore.

But Dean is convinced that Al just needs to blow off steam, after all he did find Dean at another man's house. And he most likely has to blow it off somewhere else, he was way to angry to let it all out on Dean. Without beating him to death, and then his blue eyed stranger, along with his roommate. The thing is, is that Dean would let him do it, without any fight left in him, he would go out knowing that he loved Al. It wasn't Al's fault that he was so weak and was taken to that man's house, it was Dean's. And he will be happy to take the blame, if it means that Alastair is happy. Isn't that always Dean's job? to take care of everyone else, then himself, if he had the energy.

He's been tossing and turning, trying to keep his mind quiet, so he can get at least get a couple hours of sleep. The sheets are tangled around his legs in a messy bunch. It has only been about two hours since Dean was left alone with his thoughts, but he already feels like he is going crazy. He just needs Al here, kissing him, touching him, infecting him. He flips over again, hugging his pillow closer, and staring at the empty side of the bed, where he should be. Dean can feel the lump in his throat trying to form, but pushes it down. Extending his arm out, he runs his fingers over the cold sheets, relishing in the softness of it against his skin. Flipping his head over to the bedside table, he looks at the clock, 1:00 AM. It's been more than two hours, Dean realize's, swallowing more forcefully.

He turns his head back, to stare at the spot again, imagining fingers running through his hair. Hands traveling down his chest, heavy breathing across his freckled skin, Dirty words whispered along his collarbone. The kinds that make you shiver in pleasure, as your mind gets hazy with lust, and your body takes over. 'Dean' coming in a breathy moan, from that beautiful mouth, those eyes flickering open, _blue_  eyes watching over him, studying him.

**Wait.**

That's wrong. Not  _blue_ eyes, not _Castiel_. That's wrong, it should be Alastair, not Cas, it can never be Cas. Dean whimpers, snapping his eyes open, and grabbing Al's pillow from across the bed. Pulling it in closer, he buries his face in it, taking in the smell of Alastair. It's okay, everything is okay now.

The smell is distinct, burning as he inhales the fading scent of old spice. Surprisingly It calms him down enough that he can close his eyes again without seeing those _blue_ ones. It's wrong of him to find comfort in a complete stranger, one that practically kidnapped him, in case you forgot. He should be thinking of Alastair like that not Cas. He should be able to find comfort in his own boyfriend.....

Somehow he doesn't. He trusts the blue eyed man more than Alastair. And he has known Al longer. He's too tired to think about this right now.

Dean takes one more big breath, relaxing into the tangled sheets underneath him.

And that's how he falls asleep, cuddled around his pillow like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

...

When he come's too, it's because of the loud slam of the front door downstairs. It's still dark outside, and when he looks at the alarm clock it reads 3:00 AM. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, yawning, and stretching out his tired limbs. His eyelids still threaten to fall closed again, if it wasn't for Al being home, he would go back to sleep. He sits up waiting for the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. And after a few minutes they never come. So Dean drags himself out of bed, and wobbles down the hallway. Stopping again at the top of the staircase to listen for any noise. And yet again...nothing. Getting worried now, Dean takes the steps slowly down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom, he hears the TV on, and makes his way over to the noise. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he comes around the corner. He stops in the doorway of there living room, Al's sitting on the couch. But he doesn't look angry anymore, just tired. Why didn't he come upstairs? if he was tired....Is he still going to ignore Dean? He feels his stomach drop at the thought. No. He can't do that to him, he'll go crazy.

"Dean, come here." Dean jumps at the voice, to deep in his thoughts to notice that Alastair is staring at him. It's the biggest relief to know that Al isn't going to ignore him anymore. He puts his head down, and obeys, walking over to Al. Once in front of him, he looks up with big green eyes, to make sure he isn't in any trouble. And with another relief, Al's smiling up at him, actually smiling, Dean can't remember the last time Al smiled at him. He pats the cushion next to him "Come here."  He whispers. Dean smiles, and fits himself next to Alastair. He keeps his hands to himself, and sits far enough that he isn't bothering Al, he's not sure if he is aloud to touch or not.

He immediately takes Dean around the waist, and pulls him in closer. His bruises and muscles scream at the touch, but he ignores it. The same scent that was on Alastair's pillow, smells even better on him, himself. Dean snuggles in closer, resting his face in the crook of Al's neck, letting his eyes fall back closed. "I missed you." he whispers into his shirt, finally feeling normal again. Al runs his hand across his back, massaging little circles, loosening the tensed up muscles. "i know." Alastair cooes.

Dean almost misses that he doesn't say it back, but doesn't really care, because he is here with him. His eyes fly open again at the image of blue eyes...not here! not here damn it! not when he is cuddling with Al. what the hell is wrong with him. "Dean?" Alastair asks, positioning himself so he can look at Dean's face. "Nothin'." he shakes his head, closing his eyes again. Hoping that he will let it go, and he does.

It Falls to complete silence, other than the TV in the background, along with the steady heartbeat beneath him. These are the days Dean loves Al, not the other ones, when Al will yell at him, and hit him. Those days he hates the monster that he fell in love with.

The darkness starts to take over again, plunging Dean into sleep. The blue eyes returning to him, where they belong.

....

He isn't sure how much time passes before he hears talking. The TV seems to have been turned off. The voices he hears are from two men, one of which He recognizes as Al. The slithering of his voice is quiet, hushed tones that Dean can't make out. Groaning, he opens his eyes. He is still up against Al's chest, but the other voice is coming from behind Dean. He lifts his head, and looks over his shoulder at the man sitting on the other side of the couch, near his legs. Dean has never seen him before, he looks tall like Al, has a scruffy beard, and is a little better built than Alastair, bigger boned.  Dean jumps when the man speaks "Well look who decided to join the party." Says the scruffy voice. Dean blinks in confusion for a moment, there was a reason Alastair didn't come up stairs. A reason there is a strange man in their living room at 3 in the morning. Does this mean? Dean flips his head around, and looks up at Alastair with fearful eyes. He tsks "Now dean, did you think you were going to go unpunished." he says shaking his head, disapproving of Deans wide pleading eyes. His stomach drops, off what feels like a cliff.

He doesn't know exactly what the punishment is going to be, but he knows he isn't going to like it. And he knows when a punishment is coming just by the way Alastair is looking at him. Before he has any time to think of a plan Al grabs Deans short hair and shoves his face into his crotch, moving his hips back and forth. The zipper of the jeans painfully rubbing across his cheeks, and lips. He brings his hands out to push away, and they are forced behind his back, by the other man behind Dean. He lets out a grunt at how painful this position is, and how hard his large hands are digging into his wrists. He can't, absolutely cannot, go through with this, not tonight, not ever. It was different when it was just Alastair, but when it was with an unknown stranger too....Dean feels like he is going to puke. How can Alastair do this to him..

Scruffy beard, places Dean's wrists, into one of his hands and presses them down into his already bruised back. Once the other hand is free, he begins running his fingers up and down Dean's side. He jumps away like he is being shocked, his body in an even more awkward position by trying to remove himself from the poison touch he cry's out when Al squeezes the back of his neck as a warning. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Beard runs his hand down one last time, then grabs Dean's legs, and pulls the rest of his body onto the large couch. So he is laying belly down on the cushions.

Al moves on and pushes into Deans throat, holding until he starts to struggle from lack of oxygen. Gasping in the few precious breaths when pulled up, before being manhandled back down again. Breath. Repeat. Breath. Repeat.

Dean struggles again as Beard runs his hands up and down in between his legs. He feels like clamping his legs shut, feeling violated as ever when his hand goes up higher than Dean is comfortable with. He kicks his legs out like a mule, and hits the man right in the stomach. "unff! feisty isn't he?" the man growls through clenched teeth, behind him. There's a few precious moments of where nothing happens. Not for long of course, nothing good ever lasts long. Al grabs his chin so hard that Dean whines, then brings his face up towards him. "You will behave Dean, or else." Alastair growls, warning and anger clear in his voice. He knows what 'or else' means, and doesn't like it one bit. "Now, be a good boy." Alastair hisses, locking his cold eyes onto Dean's. He releases his chin, and punches him, hard enough for Dean's vision to go black for a moment.

With no time to recover, Al grabs his throat and flips him onto his back.

Dean gasps, and immediately looks around frantically for Beard, finding him standing next to his head. And worst of all, with a smile across his face. Dean shuts his eyes and breathes deep, trying to escape from reality. Blue eyes coming back for a split second, before disappearing again. He can't be here for the rest of it, the man has barely touched Dean, and he feels as though he is going to explode at any moment. Like he is claustrophobic, and the walls are closing in on him. His mind is screaming for him to run, run, and never look back. Because no matter what he does, or tries to do, it's not going to end pretty. So Dean prays, he prays with all his heart, for anyone, anyone at all, to care about him enough to stop this. He prays for blue eyes to save him, because in all reality, Cas is the only other human being in this world that cares about him.

Dean has no one else in this world that would give two shits about him dying here, with one man that he loves, and one stranger. He doesn't know if he should fight, or if he should lay down, like a 'good boy'.

He makes his decision quickly. Dean kicks again, bucking constantly underneath Alastair. Kicking his legs out, throwing his arms around, wiggling as much as he can manage. His hands come up and he connects with Al's eye, the pressure releasing around his neck. Dean drags in three big breaths, and chokes when it begins to be to much. "Now Dean. That's no way to act around guests." Alastair hisses, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. Dean takes in a sharp breath, realizing what he has just done. He fucking hit him...he hit Alastair. Apparently that was a very bad decision. Al punches him in the stomach, and Dean coughs. Then another punch to his side, and one more to the side of his face. Adding more bruises over the top of his old ones, the one's Cas took so much time to treat. Dean hisses like a wild animal, there's no way he can take both of them, but that doesn't mean he's not going to try.

Alastair smiles down at Dean, an evil look in his dark, colorless eyes. At that moment, Dean realizes that there is nothing behind those eyes, they are empty. He shakes his head back and forth at the heartless man on top of him, not wanting to believe what he had just saw. Beard takes his chin, and forces his mouth open painfully, making Dean pull back...well, try to pull back. He is taken by surprise by Beards fast movements, that he barely notices Alastair tucking his wrists under his bony knees. Now, completely powerless, he realizes what Beard is doing, and that the man has undone his pants. In one thrust he enters, taking it all the way back to his throat. Dean gags, and tries to expel him from the painful position. His green eyes water, from the unwanted intrusion, and because Dean is breaking. The walls getting closer now, and the noose around his neck is tightening.

He whimpers, and Beard laughs, running a hand roughly through Deans hair. Alastair still on top of him, his knees pinning his already bruised wrists beneath him. He can feel cuts reopen with the pressure, blood trickling stickily onto the couch. Al runs his possessive hands over Dean's heaving chest, and down to his crotch, then back up again.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, imagining that it's someone else's hands running over him. That someone is making  _love_  to him...not **raping** him against his will.

He jumps, and whimpers again as Al leans down, and begins kissing along deans working jaw. Making his way down over his neck, then to were his adam apple is. Feeling the other man work his way down Deans throat, feeling it on his lips through the skin, as he plunges deeper inside. He clenches his hands hard enough to break the skin of his palm, hearing his wrists pop at the movement underneath Al's weight.

This is wrong, it's torture, and he can't do anything about it.

Dean can't move, can't get away, he can't even escape from this horrible reality. He has to endure every painful second of this.

Alastair smiles against his throat as Beard finally pulls far enough out for a gasp of air.

Before plunging back in, the choking Dean makes, makes beard move faster. Alastair runs his tongue up from his collar bone all the way up to his chin. He makes sure to take his time on his throat, clearly enjoying Dean's pain. Rough hands clench his short hair, and the man pushes deeper, all air denied.

Al takes that moment to shove his hands down Dean's pants, stroking, and petting.

Dean's stomach rolls in disgust, tears slipping from his tired eyes.

Teeth bite down on his working throat, pushing out a scream, or as much of a scream as he can make. Blood spills down his throat, and then Al realeases him. Seconds later Beard pulls out, slowly, letting a string of spit, and a sob pull out of his mouth. "awe...now Dean, honey, none of that." Beard taunts as he runs a hand across his cheek, Dean pulls away once again, squeezing his eyes shut. He is never going to be okay with this man touching him, even if Alastair says its okay.

"You can pull away all you want. i'll get what i came for, one way or another." Beard states deeply, a scowl across his rough face. Dean swallows, his throat feels like it's on fire, and turns his head towards Alastair's

"Please....Al, baby i'm sorry. I'll do anything, just....p pleasee not this...anything but thiiiis." he sobs, words cracking brokenly, and his body giving protest from his injuries. Dean pleads with his eyes, because that's all he can do. His head is pounding, his eyes are burning, and the lump in his throat is growing. His hope flaring like wild fire.

" **No**." comes the cold reply, along with a blank stare from Alastair.

Deans heart feels like it's being ripped out of his chest, and thrown away by someone he truly cares about, and thought they cared about him too. He can't help the next full blown sob that escapes his already shaking body.

The walls are crashing, and this time, they can't put humptie dumptie back together again.... What makes it even worse is that Al smiles down at him. "He's ready." Is all he says. Removing himself from Dean, and throwing him down to the ground, he smacks his head on the corner of the coffee table on the way down. The world spins a little faster. He is like a rag doll, falling to the floor face first, with another sob trying to escape his bruised lips.

Al grabs his hands again and holds them to the ground, shoulders length apart. While Beard waists no more time and rips his pajama pants off, discarding them across the room somewhere.

That's when Dean screams, and kicks, and tugs, only succeeding in a kick to the stomach, from the large man standing above him. Coughing he twists his head to look over to the man, and regrets it immediately. Beard is removing his own pants, and folding them nicely, before giving his unwanted attention back to him. Once behind Dean again, he grabs his hips and forces him into child's pose. Putting all of his weight on deans calfs, he screams again from all of the pain. Throwing his head into the carpet, squishing his nose into the softness. Letting another sob come ripping out.

And then the grips on his wrists become excruciatingly painful, Al is now pushing his wrists into the carpet with all of his strength. Which could only mean one thing.....

Sure enough, the man enters in one fast, painful push, bottoming out inside Dean, no prep whatsoever. His legs shake, and his stomach lurches. Finally giving up hope....Dean cries his heart out, feeling every angry push break him further.

His heart is falling apart, his hope is torn away, and his savior never came. Because no matter how much he tries...no one will ever save him, no one will ever care for him in return for giving up everything he has, or had. He is a broken man, in an empty vessel, a dead soul.

Al leans down, switching Deans hands into one of his so he can pull his face up towards him. He doesn't care how he looks anymore, he is full body crying, sobbing, choking. And as he looks up, Al smiles again, rubbing his thumb across Dean's bruising jaw. Dean returns his eyes to the floor, as Alastair continues to watch him break. Beard bruising his hips with his strong grip, and powerful thrusts.

Another thrust, a sob, a harder thrust, another sob, a thumb tracing his jaw, a choked noise, a laugh, breaking apart, slapping of skin on skin. Dean doesn't think it's possible, but the man thrusts harder into Dean. Making him scream out with all he's got left in him, his throat is so raw now, like he is swallowing glass. He screams hoping that someone will hear his desperate pleads for help. No such luck. A couple more thrusts, and Dean knows the man is getting close, lingering longer than he did before inside Dean. There's no way in hell he is going to let this bastard come inside of him. So Dean tries to kick, ignoring the pain shooting up his legs, from the mans weight. And Dean screams again, he pulls at his arms, and shakes his head, trying to release himself from somewhere...

His chest tightens with panic, short rapid gasps filling his head. Beard doesn't seem to notice, or care, he leans over far enough for his chest to press against Dean's back. More of his weight focused on Dean's calves.

"Please stop." He whispers, dragging a more desperate breath in. Hot breath ghosts over his ear "You know you like this, Dean." Beard whispers. His tongue flicks out, licking a long hot streak across his neck. "You crave this don't you Dean?" beard grunts, swirling his hips.

He's sure he is hyperventilating now, his chest rising and falling so fast in spasms. He. Can't. Fucking. Breath.

"Love me being so deep inside you. Don't you, slut?" He thrusts in as far as possible, swirling his tongue down one of Dean's shoulders. "No." He gasps, powerful sobs erupting from his ripped throat. Beard just chuckles "Well, no one cares what you like anyway." he props himself back behind Dean, and begins a fast and brutal rythem.

His stomach knots up so tight, that he would have collapsed if Alastair weren't holding him up. "Stop!" He screams, pain ripping his insides into tiny pieces. White dots quickly flashing before his eyes. A lightening feeling running down his legs, numb for a blessed couple of seconds.

Alastair, lifts his chin, staring in wonderment. Dean can barely see past his tears, but swears he sees Al smile again. Pain rips through his stomach again, air pushed from his sobbing lips. He gasps in "Hurts." he mumbles, to Alastair, Who's probably not even listening. He whimpers and startles back from the booming laugh. "You have never been this loud for me before." Alastair says, pressing a sloppy open mouthed kiss to his. "Make it stop!" he screams against Al's lips. Al hums, pulling back from Dean and rubbing his thumb across his jaw. He watches Dean struggle for breath "Scream for me baby."

And Dean does, he fucking _screams_ , and  _sobs,_ and _gasps._ To much pain overiding all at once, his body spasms and he hunches forward, throwing up everything from the day before, all over the floor beneath him. He's barely aware of the laughter booming around him. He swallows the bile down, the smell of vomit filling his nose.

One more big thrust, and Beard spills all over inside of him. He feels bile rise up again, when the hot slime fills him up, mixing with blood. Another sob screeches out, unbearable pain covering every inch of his backside, and legs. Al lifts Dean's head once more, and kisses his lips, then let's Dean drop to the floor with a thunk. Beard doing the same. His body falls limply to the floor, pain shooting up his legs again. He can feel warmth leaking from between his legs, but tries his best to ignore it as he continues to cry. They both just walk right out the front door. leaving him on the floor, in his own mess, crying for his dear life. Hurdling into himself protectively, and closing his tired, and puffy eyes. It was over...It was finally over, Dean thinks, as the darkness consumes him.

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
"The saddest thing in the world, is loving someone who used to love you."


	7. trying to heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry.....still adding on! 
> 
> Wish dean the best..

Castiel slams the door behind Alastair with such force that the walls rattle around him. The neighbors sending a warning knock against the wall. Castiel growls, staring at his front door like it personally offended him. 

How dare that man come into his home, threaten his family, and take Dean away the way he did. 

His head gives a painful twinge, where Alastair had slammed him against the door. He runs his fingers through his hair, over the bump raised there and hisses, pulling his hand back with a frown. No blood. Which is good. 

Gabriel stands quietly behind him, his hazel eyes burning holes in Castiel's back. He still clutches his iPhone to his chest, unsure fingers twitching nervously. 

"What?" He snaps, turning back towards his brother. He frowns back, his eyebrows arched angrily. He scans Cas' face with concern. Moments passing in silence, until Gabriel rolls his eyes breaking the silence. "You okay?" he asks, switching his footing. 

Castiel simply shrugs, running a hand down his face with a sigh. Anger still unfurls through him, his gut twisting with nerves. Although Dean is most likely long gone, he still feels the need to chase after him. But of course by now they could already be home, where Castiel can never find him. 

Castiel should have at least tried to pry some information out of Dean. He just felt like it was all wrong. Dean was already shaken, he's sure that he would have just made things worse.

"Are you going to go after them?" Gabriel asks, taking a step towards Castiel. 

His head snaps back up, his eyes locking onto his brother. Of course not, he's not suicidal. He shakes his head, his eyes falling to the floor. He pushes forward, past his brother without another word. He follows the hall to his room, and shuts himself in with the sounds of Gabriel talking on his phone. 

....

By the time it reaches morning, Castiel has only gotten two hours of restless sleep. And the feeling in his gut only worsens as time ticks on. He drags himself out of bed, and wonders into the kitchen. Making a cup of coffee for himself and Gabriel. 

He would make breakfast too, if his stomach wasn't rolling so badly. Wouldn't do any good anyhow, he can't cook, Gabe had assured him that he would do the cooking around the house, since Castiel manages to burn everything involving heat.

"Hey, why are you up so early Bro?" Gabriel asks, his voice booming from behind him. Castiel jumps from where he stands against the counter in the kitchen. Turning around He looks at Gabriel, to be honest he looks just as wrecked as himself. "Had trouble sleeping." he whispers back, rubbing the side of his hot coffee cup underneath his thumb.

"Are you okay Cassie? Hate to say it but....You look horrible." Castiel looks up to Gabe's concerned eyes, and simply shakes his head 'no'. He's not okay, he has feelings for a complete stranger. A stranger that doesn't feel the same towards him. The man that left with a monster. Gabriel lifts an eyebrow, and walks over next to Castiel, he leans on the counter top with his hands braced behind him. "what's wrong?" he asks, placing a hand on cas' shoulder. "Nothing. I'm just worried about him, that's all." he answers truthfully, taking another sip of his coffee.

Gabe nods, grabbing himself a cup of coffee from the counter. He heads out to work minutes later. Leaving Castiel to continue worrying about Dean for the rest of the day. 

...

He shows up to work the next day, tired, and angry. Monday's are always the worst, nothing but the true alcoholics of the town come out. There's always trouble trying to confiscate keys, and call taxis for the heavily drunk men. They always refuse the gesture, they say that they are not all that drunk, that they can still drive perfectly fine. Which obviously is a lie seeming as how they don't realize their keys are gone until they stumble outside. 

Castiel hates Monday's. He honestly had to drag himself to work. He spent his whole night worrying again. No sleep causing his eyes to droop, and dark circles to appear. Gabriel didn't ask, and Castiel didn't question. He's happy that his brother has some common sense. Anger still fills his bones, it's so deep that he thinks it's never going to leave. Even the littlest things will set him off. Red seems a normal color when it bleeds into his vision. 

He's not sure how to rid himself of this feeling. But finding Dean would be a good start. 

Although he didn't want to come to work, he still does. Because he can't sit at home all day and steam about what happened. That's no reason to ditch work, and he knows it. Even if his brain wont shut off, at least his hands will be busy. 

The bar is unusually warm tonight. He thinks maybe it could be the lights over head, or maybe Crowley finally got the place fixed. Whatever it is, it brings a heat flash across his skin. 

Castiel hangs his coat in his usual spot, his apron already tied lazily around his hips from this morning. There's a wad of bills stacked inside of his cubby when he looks inside. His brows furrow, and he reaches for the stack. A sticky note tells him that it was the tips he forgot last time he worked, with Meg's neat signature at the bottom. 

A small smile reaches his lips as he looks at the smiley face drawn in the top corner. He stuffs the bills into his pocket, keeping the note just for the hell of it. Then makes his way out o the main Bar, waving at the cook as he passes by. 

The door to the main entrance jingles just as he pushes through the double kitchen doors. He spots one of the regular's obviously already drunk stumbling over to a small booth in the corner, and tries not to be disappointed when it isn't who he was hoping for. Cold air blasts in through the front as it slinks closed behind the man. Castiel spots Meg right away, her eyes tracking the costumer the whole time he stumbles to his seat. She shakes her head slightly looking back down to her phone she has clutched in her hands. She leans casually over the shiny bar, her face curtained by her hair, as she mumbles a couple curses under her breath. 

Castiel quickly pours a scotch, and walks it over to the man. His eyes are glazed as he takes the drink from Castiel with a smile. 

He makes his way back over to meg, setting the scotch back where it goes quietly. She mumbles again, switching her footing. Castiel clears his throat, leaning in next to her. He leans far enough to see past her blonde hair, long enough to see her colorful screen.

"I can't get past this level." She sighs, clicking her phone off and turning to him with a grin. Castiel raises an eyebrow but otherwise says nothing. Her gaze hardens as she finally looks up at him. "You look like shit." She comments turning her body fully towards him. 

Castiel lowers his eyes, absently picking at the sticker stuck to the bottom of the bar. She sighs. 

"Sorry." She mumbles, stepping closer. "I meant to say, what's wrong?" 

Castiel cracks a smile, his gaze wondering back up to her. He opens his mouth to answer, but she cuts him off. 

"Wait, let me guess." she says quickly, her eyes a mix of sadness and humor. 

"Green eyes?" she asks. 

Castiel tilts his head, his brows furrowing. 

"How-" He starts, she cuts him off again. "Gabriel." She answers. 

He tilts his head even further. 

"He called me, last night. Told me everything." She clarifies. 

Castiel frowns, shaking his head. Of course his brother has already told everyone and their dog. It's only been one day for hell sakes. How many people could know by now. 

 

...

A week passes with no sign of Dean. Everything is quiet as Castiel tries to devise a plan.

....

The next time he goes into work, it's a Friday, a very busy Friday. There are bodies everywhere, Castiel feels as though he is running constantly. He doesn't have much time to do anything else but his job, he'd only got to talk to meg three times the whole night. Plus he had to break up a fight, between two drunk men, something about someones girlfriend?? He doesn't care what it was about, just that he separated the two. Crowley has even come out once or twice to help mix drinks, just because two people verses the 100 that were here did not work out. They didn't have enough hands to take everyone orders, and then get the drink out to them, only to repeat it over and over again.

And once again a couple people hit on Castiel, trying to get him to sit down, or give his number away. And there were some attractive people that aprouched him tonight. The only thing is that Cas isn't interested, he is still obsessing over someone that can never be his. There was even a man that tried to flirt with Cas, he looked about in his twenty's and like he should be on the cover of a magazine somewhere. Cas may have flirted a little bit back, he just couldn't help himself. The man was so attractive, not to mention how nice an smart the he was. Cas almost gave in and scribbled his number onto the man's palm. 

Until of course he had to get back to work, and he reminded himself that he is only interested in Dean, and Dean only. Cas doesn't care how long it takes, or how much he has to work for it, but he will have Dean. Even if it's the last thing he does. Because Cas needs to protect him, watch over him, and maybe one day even love him.

Castiel's pouring a drink, for an older man that sat down at the bar. And Meg is taking orders from the people sitting at the booths. Crowley has already left them, and went home. It hasn't died down much, but it was definetly alot mellower than it had been, for a bar anyways. There were still people dancing provocatively, and couples, and not so much couples making out in all corners of the room. The heat of the bodies warming the room like a fire in a small house. And the music blaring so loud it could be heard over the shouting, and talking of the costumers.

"Here's your drink." Castiel says, setting the brown colored glass in front of the man. He turns around spotting Meg standing a few feet away from him behind the bar, with wide eyes, and her mouth agape. Castiel tilts his head to the one side curious of what she's doing. "Meg?" he asks walking over to her slowly. She blinks, turning her head towards him, her eyes following a second later. "Cas...who is that man sitting next to Dean?" Meg whispers loud enough for only him to hear, then moves her eyes back to where she was looking before. 

He turns, looking through the crowd for his green eyed man. And surely only a moment later he lays eyes on his beauty. Feeling a little better now that he knows Dean is alive. Dean's sitting at one of the booths, with a large bearded man perched next to him. An arm possessively around Dean's hunched shoulders. His other hands running up in between Dean's shaking thighs. Castiel can sense how uncomfortable he is, and.....afraid. He quickly notices the fresh bruises, mostly hidden except for a gash across his four head, and a large bruise covering his temple, and jaw. Anger rises under Castiel's skin, and burns like wild fire through his veins. 

This man's manipulating Dean. He has a smirk across his face, while just stares at the table blankly. H doesn't move away from the larger man's touch, just sits there like a stiff mannequin. Who is this man? and where is Alastair? 

Castiel moves his feet, not even knowing what he was going to do yet, but he knowing that it would be incredibly stupid. He can't just stand around and watch this leech suck the life out of Dean. And as always before he even get's two steps in, he is pulled back by Meg. "Don't, just stay out of it. okay?" Meg asks trying to get Castiel's eyes to focus on her and not on Dean. He thinks about it for a moment, the man can't do more than touch Dean a little. And Castiel can keep an eye on them as long as they are here, which makes him feel a little better. So he nods, and goes on serving a man down at the other end of the bar. 

"What can i get for you?"  


...

The bar is starting to clear out now, and Castiel hasn't removed his eyes from Dean longer than he needs too. He has watched the man rub his thighs, whisper to him, and hold his hand. And Dean has stayed the same all night long, silent, unmoving, and staring blankly. He's keeping it together so no one will see behind his mask. Castiel has to admit that Dean is probably the strongest person he knows. He can't even imagine how hard his life is. 

And as long as Dean is here, Castiel can protect him.

"Hey Cas? hello?? you there?" Meg's hand waves back and forth in front of his face. He jumps back a little when he actually comes out of his haze. He moves his eyes from Dean, and looks down at meg. "About time...stop obsessing over your boy toy and help me clean up a little." Meg orders, with a small smile, tossing him a washcloth. Castiel nods, and smiles back, before clutching the rag, and wiping down the sticky bar. There are still four or five people at the bar, and about ten sitting in the booths, plus the few still dancing against each other. 

He glances back up to Dean, and those green eyes meet his blue ones, for the first time all night. And for the first time, Castiel sees the hurt inside the deep pools of depression. His beautiful face is contorted into pain, he's pleading with his desperate silent screams for help. And all Castiel can do was wait.... time is running out, and so is his patience. The man next to him looks up to Dean in confusion, then follows Dean's gaze over to Castiel. Castiel glares daggers back at the bearded man, in return he gets an evil smirk. He fees like jumping over the counter, and attacking the bastard in front of everyone

The man raises an eyebrow, then turns his gaze back over to Dean. Lifting one of his large hands, he takes a hold of Dean's chin, his fingers indenting the skin of his cheeks. He forces Dean's head towards his bearded face. Green eyes glare in return, his body stiffening. Dean tugs back against the hold, but not nearly enough to release the grip on his chin. The man smiles again, his mouth moving as he says something to Dean. His green eyes fill with tears, and he clenches his fists beneath the table. Castiel's going to kill this man if he gets the chance, he is going to kill him painfully, so that he can never hurt anyone ever again. The man raises his other hand to the back of Dean's head, then crushes his lips into Dean's perfect one's in one swift move. 

Dean raises shaky hands, bracing himself against the bearded mans chest. He's going to be sick, or maybe even explode from anger. This bastard is waving Dean in front of his face, like he's a piece of meat, he is showing him that he can't do anything about it either.  
He growls, deep inside his throat, watching as the kissing goes on. The man forcefully shoves his tongue down Dean's throat, licking into his mouth with enthusiasm. This time though, Dean squirms in the man's grip, pushing his arms out further in attempt to scoot backwards. When he starts to succeed in his attempts. The man removes his hand from Dean's chin, and grabs both of Dean's dark purple bruised wrists inside one of his own, pushing them downwards, and holding them there, so no one but Castiel, can see the tight grip.

When the man decides that isn't enough, he forces Dean's hands to his own crotch, he begins to rub them back and forth. At that, Dean struggles, hard. He kicks his feet out, and pulls his hands as hard as he can, trying his hardest to remove the large man from himself. That's all Castiel needs...

He walks purposely around the counter, and lets the anger be his guide to their table in the corner. He's seeing red, his hands clenched into fists beside his sides, he shakes with anger. Stopping in front of the table, he slams a fist on top of the wood, in order to get the mans attention. "You need to leave." he growls. 

The man releases Dean from the kiss, but keeps hold of his wrists. He turns his head towards Castiel, staring at him with cold brown eyes. Dean stares forward, his chest heaving and his lips swollen. He looks down to the table with sad empty eyes, also swollen and red, with large dark circles beneath. The bearded man speaks deeply, matching his over sized body "Is that so?" He chirps.  
Castiel clenches his fists tighter "Yes." he clips out. Dean fidgets in his seat, looking worriedly between the men. He pulls Dean's wrists towards himself, sliding out of the booth. Dean squeaks, a barely audible noise as his wrists are tugged. Castiel lurches forward, blocking the way out "Without him." he growls, holding back the impulse to punch the bastard. 

"Sorry, but no deal buddy." He says looking up to Castiel again, clearly annoyed with how this is going. He runs a hand over Dean's cheek "I think i'll keep him." He whispers. Dean shivers beside him, swallowing harshly. He begins to shake with anger, the red fully blinding any sense he has left. Castiel reaches forward and grabs a hold of the mans neck, pulling him out of the booth completely. He ignores the whimper Dean lets out, as large hands let go of his bleeding wrists. 

Castiel practically drags the large man outside. Sure he was kinda short, but he was strong. He is not going to put up with this man any longer than he needs too. Once he's outside, he drops him to the ground with a thud. he glares down at him, and waits until he realizes what just happened. The man stands up, rubbing his neck, and then throwing the first punch. In which Castiel dodges, with a swift movement. He throws a punch back at the drunk man. Connecting with his scruffy cheek, hard enough that blood sprays from his mouth.

No time to waste, Castiel swipes his leg underneath the man, hits the back of his knee, and the man fall to the concrete. He immediately straddles him, and begins throwing punches. Watching as this man tries to defend himself from the constant blows to the face. The bloodier the man gets, the better he feels. Once the man starts to lose consciousness, he stops, and raises himself to his feet. Glaring down in disgust. "If i ever see you around Dean again, i wont stop, until your dead." he growls, kicking the man once more, earning him a pained grunt

With that he turns around, satisfied with his bruised knuckles. Castiel's met by Dean. He stands only a few feet away, looking at Castiel with tears in his eyes, and shivering uncontrollably. "Dean....come here." Castiel hushes, holding his hands out for Dean to come forward. He looks at him for a moment, a uncertain look in his eyes. Then he walks forward, let's Cas take him into his arms, and kiss him on the fourhead. He rubs Dean's back lovingly, Letting the anger be replaced by comfort. He's crying now, all the shock finally registering, he grabs onto Castiel's t-shirt, pulling him in closer to himself. "It's okay." He whispers, and holds onto Dean tighter. He places kisses along his shaking shoulders, barely thinking of what he's doing. He had saved Dean, and it felt amazing....

"i'll protect you.." he whispered into Dean's ear.


	8. taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tbc!

Dean used to be strong, he used to fight battles that nobody could even imagine. But after being broken down so many times, you lose all hope for fighting to even be an option. Because if you fight back, the punishment is worse. The worse the punishment, the more you break. The more you cry, and the more fear you have to live with. And that's where Dean went wrong, he fought, and he fought hard. He was stubborn, strong, and hard headed, just like his father. 

And now? now, Dean was weak, fragile, and broken beyond repair. So don't think for even a second that Dean didn't fight, because he fought too many wars, more than one person should ever have to handle in there lifetime...

That's why he let's the blue eyed man take him home with him. Completely ignoring the fact that if Alastair finds him there once again he will be punished.

...

"Who was that man, at the bar with you earlier?" Castiel asks, walking around the couch and sitting next to Dean. Dean greedily takes the popcorn out of his hands. "It's complicated." he answers, completely avoiding His gaze. Castiel watches those beautiful green eyes fill with tears, for the second time tonight. Dean blinks the away just as fast as they had appeared. "I know it is, and i have all the time in the world for you to help me understand." He replies softly. Dean shake's his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand harshly, he looks everywhere but at Castiel. He waits quietly, pushing Dean to keep talking.

It's killing Castiel being in the dark, not truly knowing what is going on inside Dean's head. What kind of wars he is fighting, and with no kind of help from anyone. After a few moments of silence, Castiel decides to speak up again "Dean, i know this must be extremely difficult. But you need to talk to me, so i can help you." Dean jumps shaking his head again, he stares blankly down at the bowl of popcorn in his lap. What is Castiel supposed to do to get Dean to talk to him, to just help him understand. 

Dean starts to shake his leg up and down restlessly, the silence of the room too much. He then whispers "I can't." so quiet, that Castiel thinks that he might not have heard it, if it weren't for Dean's lips moving. He takes Dean's shaking hand into his own, stroking his thumb over the top of the bronzed perfection "yes, you can." He encourages. Dean shakes again, and again, a tear falling to the ground with the movement. He squeezes his hand tighter, his fingertips cold against Dean's warm skin. "Just start small, like....how do you know the man? where did you meet him?" Dean swallows, opens his mouth, then closes it again. The story seeming to be lying on the tip of his tongue, but never making it out of his mouth. All that come's out is "Alastair." One word, that sends tendrils of nervous anger through Castiel's body. He nods numbly, figuring as much "Alright, good. Now, When did you meet this man?" he pushes, his own hands starting to sweat.

Dean shakes his leg, and squeezes Castiel's hand tighter "Last week." He whispers, the words breaking in his throat. "After I left here." he adds. He knew the restless feeling he had that night wasn't just worry. Something happened that night, and it was something bad enough to get Dean this worked up. He let's silence drop between them for a moment, his mind reeling with the possibilities. Before saying "What happened when you left, Dean?" Dean then let's out a long held back sob, more tears dropping from his jaw to the floor. Castiel can't stand seeing him so broken, so helpless, but he holds back for his own sake. 

"Dean? what happened after you left my house?" Castiel says a little louder than before, trying to get Dean to come out of this haze he's worked himself into. He seems to go in and out of his own world sometimes, when something he wants to avoid comes up. Dean jerks so hard, that Castiel jumps back in surprise, the bowl of popcorn falling to the floor with a clang. He looks back over to Dean in shock, staring at bloodshot Green eyes for a moment, maybe this is worse than he thought. Maybe Dean is more broken and ripped apart, than Castiel had originally thought. A second later Dean starts to shake, his breath coming out more rugged, little whimpers falling from his perfect lips. 

"Dean." He tries again, reaching forward to take a hold of his hand. Dean's breath seems to slow a tiny bit at the contact, his whimpering stopping a second later. He is still shaking when he replies "Al brought me home... then he left. And he didn't come home until late that night. I.....i....i thought he was going to ignore me. I mean, i knew he was mad at me, but i didn't understand why he was ignoring me." He cut off, and took in a deep breath. But that wasn't the whole story, not even close. Dean was just trying to ignore the big point of the story, playing around the most important part. The part that most likely made him act this way. Castiel looks at him understandingly "Then? What happened next?" He sobs again, wiping his eyes with his free hand "Al came home. I was in bed, and heard him come in, but he didn't come upstairs. So i went down..." he knows this isn't going anywhere good, but he forces himself to stay quiet, and listen to the rest. Dean visibly shook, violently, and then came more tears, the one's he has been holding back the entire time. Castiel tightened his hand around Dean's, scooting closer to his side. Dean took a deep breath "I fell asleep with Al on the couch, but only for a second, I swear. Before i woke up to Al talking to the Bearded man.." He choked, then clutched Cas' hand tighter. He just stares at Dean, with a confused look "Then?" He pushes. Dean wipes at his face again "Then....." He chokes, letting more hot tears flow down his freckled cheeks. Castiel scoots even closer, his side now pressed against Dean's "He. They. The bearded man, he...." Castiel already knows what the man did, but he needs to hear it from Dean, himself. So he stays silent, letting the sound of Dean's crying fill the room. "Alastair said that i wouldn't go unpunished. And he let the stranger...he let him take me." Castiel then took the decision, and pulled Dean down onto his lap, his head resting across his thighs. He runs his fingers through his short spiky brown hair, Dean continues without being told "Alastair let the man rape me, in our own living room. While he watched, he watched with a smile across his face. Smiling at me, like he enjoyed to watch me break."

His stomach rolls from the image the story created in his head. The helplessness that Dean must of felt, while Castiel lie in his bed unable to help. If he would have known, maybe he could have tried harder. The bad feeling he had that night wasn't just an accident. Something bad was really happening, and right under his nose. He knows he shouldn't beat himself up for this, but he can't help but think he could have done more to help. All he can do now is comfort Dean "Did they hurt you?" He whispered, kneading small circles on the back of his neck. Careful not to touch the two fingerprint bruises on either side of his neck.

"Physically, i mean." Castiel specified, running his free hand down Dean's side. He jumps slightly from the touch, then nods his head 'yes', to answer the question. 

Alastair was just adding to his collection, like he was branding Dean. To remind him of who he belongs too, and who owns him. Like he is a piece of property, that Alastair is loaning to random strangers, to put there own mark on him. This is by far more than he thought was happening when he first met Dean. He decides to let this go for tonight, to let Dean relax "Alright that's enough for tonight. What do you say we watch a movie?"

Dean snuggles in closer, nodding 'yes' again. Castiel smiled, flipping the tv on, he finds a rerun of some older movies.

...

They snuggled on the couch for nearly an hour before he heard Dean's breathing slow, soft snoring coming from his lips. Castiel leans over slightly, catching sight of Dean sound asleep. His eyes move slowly back and forth behind his eyelids, and his lips part on each breath he takes. He smiles, leaning himself back carefully against the couch again. He is happy to see that Dean trusted him enough to cuddle up to him and sleep. 

It wasn't long before the soft sound of Dean's breathing, and the warmth of his body lulled Castiel to sleep.

...

Castiel wakes that morning to the smell of coffee, Gabriel's form standing in the doorway. He notices as he's looking down, that Dean's not on the couch anymore. In fact, he's no where to be seen "Where's Dean?" he asks, looking over to gabriel in confusion. How long had he been asleep?

Gabe takes another sip of his coffee, and walks over to Castiel. He gives him a quick confused glance, as he steps on the spilled popcorn littering the carpet. he shrugs ,sitting on the couch, and sets his mug down "He left early this morning." Castiel can't believe he didn't wake up "Why?" He asks, fear knotting in his gut. Gabriel gives him a confused glance, before turning his gaze to the coffee mug. Watching the steam rise in thin clouds "Alastair came and picked him up. I figured you already knew, so i didn't wake you." He shrugged, picking the white mug up, and blowing on it, then raising it to his lips. cas' brow furrowed "No i didn't know. He didn't mention anything last night." Aside from the fact that he was raped brutally, but it wasn't Cas' right to tell Gabriel. He figured he was lucky to have heard anything about it himself. And he can't imagine how hard it would be for him if he found out Cas had told Gabe. 

But then how was he going to tell him that Dean was not safe with Alastair, not in the slightest. Especially because he found Dean at his house, again. And we all know that Alastair is completely capable of punishing Dean for something so small. But he will keep this secret, for Dean, and he will just make something up if he has to. Castiel looks back over to Gabriel, a fake smile gracing his lips. "What time is it?" his brother raises his eyebrows, looking down to his watch "It's almost 5 in the afternoon" Castiel's eyes go big "Crap! i'm gonna be late for work!"

He can't believe he slept that long, sure he'd been tired but he didn't realize just how tired. Gabriel laughs at him as he stumbles up off of the couch, tripping over himself as he runs to his bedroom. He slips his work clothes on, and grabs his apron out of the hamper in the corner of his room. He attempts to smooth down his bed head on his way out, tripping over his computer cord on his way out of his bedroom. He runs back out to the living room and slips his shoes on hastily. Then grabbing his keys, and coat, He waves goodbye to Gabriel on the way out, pointedly ignoring his brother's laugh.


	9. finders keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry about the lat chapter....not my best work. plus i was in a hurry, so it's short, and kinda slow.
> 
> but i promise i will make this one better!
> 
> and let's all hope cas saves dean!
> 
> and thank you to all that have read this!
> 
> still working on it don't worry!

All Cas could think about while driving to work is that Dean left once again, and with the one person he was trying to keep him away from. He knows he is wrong to say it, or maybe he's right, he doesn't know anymore, but he does not care if Dean is in love with Alastair. Cas knows that Dean is only hurting himself more by staying with the man. And he also knows that he will do anything to save Dean from the monster. Even if things get a little out of hand and he has to handle Alastair himself.

Because if the police aren't going to do anything, then he is. He pulled into his usual parking space and threw the car into park. He noticed that the bearded man was back, standing at the back entrance. He looked horrible too, his nose looked crooked, his left eye completely swollen shut, and a fist sized bruise poking atop of his brown scruffy beard. Cas chuckled at the sight, because he had no marks left on him after last night. Mostly because he took some self defence classes when he was in highschool, but for a totally different reason. Never knowing that they would come in handy one day.

The man looked angry as hell, leaning against the brick like a guard dog. Cas doesn't understand why he is standing there though, last time he checked he beat the living shit out of the bastard. And he would be happy to do it again if he needed to. Maybe the man was just looking for a reason to get his ass kicked all over again. He removed his seat belt, and decides to leave his trench coat in the car, just in case he needs all hands on deck. Then slowly gets out of his car and walks over to where the man is standing, that is now looking back at him, with a glare.

As he aprouches the man stays still, but watches Cas' every movement like a hawk. 'He's got to stop comparing people to animals. Even though comparing them to animals is kind of fitting. They are selfish wild animals,well, most of them anyway.' He gets a little closer, testing if the man will move out of his way, and as suspected, he doesn't. So Cas stops a few feet away, and glares back, clenching his fists tighter as he waits. The man shifting a little bit, uncomfortably, as he looks down to Cas' fists. Then quickly hides it with a forced smile "Thought you got rid of me that easy?" Yes, Cas thinks, i thought i taught a pretty damn good lesson, if i'm remembering correctly. 

So Cas sighs, and tilts his head, ever so slightly, to the right "Yes, i did. But it looks like someones got a thick skull." The man uncrosses his arms awkwardly, and forces another smile, along with a low laugh. He's not buying this tough guy act this prick has got going on, not one bit. He waits another moment, then takes another step forward "What do you want?" Bearded man actually looks confused at Castiel's statement "You know why i'm here." Cas squints his blue eyes, no, actually he doesn't know why this man is here. He thought that he was here to fight him, but clearly that's not the case here.

The man steps back, when Cas takes another forward. Clearly not here to fight "No, i don't." The reply confident, and laced with venom. The man gives him another confused look "Dean. I'm here for Dean. You took him home last night, and i am here to take him back." Cas' gut clenches, and his fists grow white as he clenches them harder. "I don't have him. Alastair took him this morning." He doesn't know why he's telling this man this. He is getting sick and tired of everyone always taking Dean away from him. Plus he warned this man to never touch Dean again. But maybe this man worked for Alastair? But then why he be sent here to get Dean, if Alastair already has him?

"No he didn't." The man growls, quickly taking his phone out of his pocket. And he strides away down the alley, and gets into a car. Cas would go after him, but he is to shocked at what he just heard to even care. Where was Dean? And who took him this morning. "Hey! Get your frilly ass in here. Your almost an hour late." Crowleys voice plummeting him back onto earth. He looks around once more before running inside after Crowley. He doesn't even listen to the lecture he gets while tying his apron around his slim hips. His mind is to preoccupied with Dean, is he ever going to catch a break with the green eyed man? 

Seems like every day is a new war to fight, a new war that decides if he gets to keep is green eyes or not. He shakes his head and tries to clear the worry that still lies there. Before walking out into the noisy bar.

...

 

His shift was long, the people were rude, and there was no sign of Dean or Alastair all night long. He was getting anxious, his worry morphing into fear as each minute ticked by. And to top it all off Meg wasn't there to comfort him, only a trainee that Crowley had hired last week. The boy was blonde, clearly just turned 21, and flirty as hell. He was stuck next to Cas all night for training, and the boy never did shut up. He asked a lot of personal questions too, like how many people had Cas been with, if he liked men, why he lived here if his family was rich. He didn't answer a lot of them, because he really didn't care to be this boys entertainment, and he was way too preoccupied with worry. 

He also had brown eyes, probably about 6'1, 6'2, taller than Cas. He was also a lot thinner than Cas too, and wore too tight of pants, and talked higher pitched than he had been suspecting. Which leads too why he keeps rubbing up against Cas like a cat, or how he stares at him a little longer than needed. Of course he tries to ignore all of these things, he is in no way interested in this man. But it is kind of hard when this man is flirting his life away, and giving Cas little nudges, and touches here and there when they are standing by each other. 

He really can't think about anything but Dean, and he even imagines that some of the little touches are Deans hands. Which he knows is completely strange, and yet it is the only thing that makes him feel a little bit better. It's like hell having to be here, when he could be out looking for him, and possibly saving him. Because he failed so horribly last time, and for once he would like to keep Dean safe and in his arms. 

But in order to keep Dean safe he has to fight all of his battles. All the wars and pain he seems to go through constantly. Cas doesn't know how he has survived this long. He is glad he has though, Because now he can fight beside Dean. He will fight for this stranger, not because it's the right thing to do. But because ever since he laid eyes on the gorgeous creature, he knew this was what he was destined to do. To keep Dean Winchester safe, and to rid him of all evil that surrounds the pure soul. And because he knows that Dean is his soul mate, they were made for each other. Perfect pieces of a puzzle that fit together, that were made to fit together. This is a slippery slope he is walking down, and if he isn't careful he might fall into the deep pits of hell, where Dean lies, with Alastair. But if he gets it right, he can raise Dean up and continue to heal him, to love him, for all eternity.

"Hey Cas!" Come's the high pitched voice, Conner, the trainee. Cas rolls his eyes, then turns around from where he stand behind the bar, as usual. Conner is standing in the middle of the floor, with a huge smile on his face. He's pointing over to, Castiel gasps. He has all the chairs stacked atop of each other, but not the way they are supposed to be stacked. It's like he was playing legos, but with chairs, when Castiel clearly told him to start closing. "What are you doing?" he growls, because the idiot is still smiling, proud of what he did. Conner's smile doesn't falter, he just looks over to the tall stack of chairs again and says "Your such a grump. Why don't you try having a little fun once in a while?" Really? he has to pull Castiel into this, all he wants is to go home, and find Dean. 

"Yeah, and if Crowley sees your so called fun?" He says serious, it's like he's talking to a little kid. "Then come help me take it down before he does." Conner winks, that goofy smile still across his lips, perfect white teeth poking beneath. "It's your mess. You clean it up." he shoots back, still completely annoyed with him. Conner sticks his bottom lip out, in a pouty face "I can't do it alone." Damn this kid, he was really starting to piss Castiel off. He knows he is only trying to be friendly, but his mind is already going 100 miles per hour with all of Dean's worries. It's kind of hard to be happy, and have some fun when the man you are falling for might be in trouble. And your stuck at work with the most needy trainee you have ever met. 

Castiel puts his washcloth down, and makes his way to Conner. Who is now smiling again, like a little kid on christmas. Just because he doesn't want to, does not mean he won't, because he kind of feels bad. He walks past the man without glancing at him once, and begins to take the chairs down. The first one is stacked up higher than Cas' head, so he has to reach up. Making his shirt ride up against his back, exposing flesh. To his surprise, Conner whistles at him, making Cas' face go red, and his arms fly down to his sides. He turns around and glares "You going to help? or just stand there?" 

He smiles again, and chuckles "I thought i'd enjoy the show. But i can help." Cas is really sick of this guy, he has cocky line for everything. Cas stays where he is, staring at Conner, until he moves and comes over to help take down the two tall towers of chairs. Conner takes the top one down, and sets it where it belongs. And then Cas starts working on the opposite stack. Taking one down, and reaching up for another one. He is stopped by Conner's hands snaking around his waist, followed by hot breath down his neck. Cas shivers, and grabs Conner's wrists, prying them off of him. And then turning around, with the same glare he gave him earlier "What are you doing?" 

Conner shrugs, and gets into Cas' personal space, their noses almost touching. "I'm just having a little fun." he whispers, lust heavy in his throat. His eyes searching Cas' for conformation, which is not givin'. All Cas can think about still is Dean, and there is no way he would ever want anyone else, ever. Cas holds his ground, watching as those hazel eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up again. Even though Cas doesn't want anyone but Dean, he can't help but be caught up in the moment. It's been such a long time since he has kissed anyone, or even been with someone, in that way. 

So he let's Conner's soft, wet lips, crash against his. The feeling of warmth overwhelming, and invading at the same time. He holds still as Conner's hands come up his chest, then back down again, just a little below his belly button. He doesn't understand, but he still makes no attempts to get away as Conner pushes him against the wall. Hands pushing a little harder against his burning body, and his tongue coming out, and licking it's way into Cas' mouth. The heat exploding into something bigger, and his heart picking up pace. His mind getting a little fuzzy with want, and need.

He is thinking of Dean, imagining that this is how it would feel with him, maybe even better. Except he imagines Dean to be more gentle, unlike Conner, who is a little demanding, and controlling. Almost becoming too much when he swirls his tongue inside Cas' mouth. And then it is too much, when his hands wonder lower, beneath his belt. He can't go through with this, not with him. He feels like he is cheating on Dean, even though they aren't even together. So he pulls away, gasping for air "No, this is wrong." 

Conner looks confused, and kind of sad, but backs away in Cas' favor. Cas walks past him, and wipes at his mouth, walking into the back to finish closing, and away from Conner.

...

They close fast, and Conner doesn't say another word, other than 'goodbye' when they part ways. He is glad that this isn't going to be a problem, he will just have to explain that he has a boyfriend. Even though Dean isn't his, yet. As long as he can find Dean, and he isn't in any kind of trouble. He really wishes that he could have skipped on work today, but he has a feeling that Dean is somehow okay...

So he finishes throwing away the trash, and heads to his car. The mumbling of the homeless man are a comfort now, as he unlocks his car and gets in. Jumping when he sees his coat beside him, thinking that it was someone in the passenger seat. He huffs out a nervous laugh and starts his car.  
...

When he gets home Gabe isn't awake, the lights are all off, and the apartment is quiet. So he slips off his shoes, and hangs up his things on the hooks beside the door. He checks the lock one more time, before yawning and walking sleepily to his room. The door is closed, which probably means Gabe has been in there snooping around, like he always does. But Cas stops in his tracks when he sees the light on, would Gabriel leave the light on? He wasn't that careless though, he always tries to cover his tracks when he has been in Cas' room. Always saying that he would never go in there, and that Cas must have left the door open himself. 

Cas stares at the cracks beaming light, wondering why it was on? He inches forward, listening for any noise coming from behind the door. Everything is silent, except for the rattle of the heat vents, and the sound of his heartbeat. Silence is a good sign, right? maybe not...

Cas takes in steadying breathes, takes another step forward, cursing the creaky wood in the hallway. He swears he can hear breathing on the other side of the door when he inches closer. He takes the cold door knob between his fingers, and turns it as quietly as possible. Then more light spills out as he opens the door further. His eyes attempting to adjust to the intruding brightness of it. He opens the door further, taking a cautious step forward. Peeking around the corner of the white painted door, blinking so that his vision clears a little more. He can see legs underneath his blankets, then he sees a rising and falling chest. And then the freckled hands crossed over his chest. Cas opens the door more quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. It's Dean, asleep in his bed, wearing one of Cas' T shirts.

He brings himself all the way into the room, and shuts the door quietly behind him. Dean, he's okay. Cas is so happy to see him here, and asleep in his bed, and in his T shirt no less. He smiles at how peaceful he looks, and how comfortable he has gotten with Cas, that he just steals his clothes and sleeps in his bed. Cas lets all his worries fade away as he turns the light out, and lowers himself on the bed. Snuggling up to Dean, careful not to wake him, and letting his own dreams take him under.


	10. losers weepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hope your still with me. 
> 
> comments please:) 
> 
> This chapter is finally finished...

"I never thought love was worth fighting for but when i look into your eyes i'm ready for war."  
. . . . . *month 2*

"So meeting anyone special tonight?" Meg askes, nudging his shoulder playfully while she pours another drink. Cas ducks his head away from her to hide the spreading heat in his cheeks. Of course she noticed that something was off about Cas today, he doesn't usually act so....happy. "Maybe." he replies playfully, wiping the counter down once more. "Oh Clarence....." she breathes. "You are head over heals for this boy aren't you?" She giggles softly, looking up at him with curious eyes. He blushes, yes, he is totally and utterly in love with him.

Her expression turns hard as she looks over to the bar door, he hears it open, but doesn't look. He just watches as Meg scowls, mutters something and slides the drink over to an older looking man towards the end of the bar. Cas already knows who it is, without even looking, because there are only very few people who can make Meg angry just by showing up. She puts her hands on her hips, and turns back to Cas "I'll take care of this hun. You just stay right here." Cas nods, and watches her walk around the bar, and up to the table seating four men.

Alastair, Dean, Beard, and some other man, Cas has never seen before. 

As always Alastair has a possessive arm around Dean's slumped shoulders, kissing, and biting along his neck and jaw. While Dean sits perfectly still, staring at the table, rubbing his fingers together nervously. Beard is talking to Alastair, his hands splayed across the table lazy like. And the man Cas has never seen before, has black hair that hangs just above his shoulders. He also looks fresh out of prison, by the looks of his tattooed arms. Other than that he is a pretty attractive man, looks half Chinese, half African, maybe?

He is smiling at Dean, looking him up and down like a piece of meat. The tattooed man doesn't even flinch when Al looks up, and sees him eye fucking Dean. He just smiles, and says something that makes Dean shudder, and the other two men laugh. The man reaches over the table, revealing more tattoos across his arms, and grabs Dean's chin. Pulling his face up, and forcing those beautiful green eyes to look at him. He says something, that Cas can't make out over the music, and Dean tears his face away. Snuggling in closer to Alastair, and returning his gaze to the table top.

Meg saunters up just as Alastair turns his attention back to Dean, kissing down his while his long white fingers curl over Dean's biceps. Meg caughs, and switches footing impatiently, clicking her pen and placing it on her pad. "What can i get for you?" She forces, as nicely as she can muster, with a small smile across her lips. Dean looks up nervously, then snaps his attention back down again as beard begins to speak.

"Well the last time i was here, the man you are working with tonight, made a pretty amazing drink. Maybe he could come and take our order?" he smiles up at her, tapping large fingers across the tabletop. Meg swallows down her original response, and shoves her pen and notepad into her apron with more force than needed. 

"Sure. I'll go get him." She snaps back, trying to suppress the bile that insists on spilling all over the floor when Alastair licks under Dean's jaw. She turns and walks purposely back to Castiel with a frown on her face. "They want you to take there order." she growls, planting her hands on her hips. Cas swallows, and nods "Okay, thanks anyway for trying to take that. I know you don't like those guys." she smiles, and pats him on the shoulder, for good luck. Then walks down the bar to take an young mans order. Cas rubs his sweaty hands on his apron, and flicks his gaze over to their table. They're still talking, laughing, Dean still staring down at the table. He is going to kill the bearded bastard for real this time. The man knows how awkward this will make everything, plus he knows Cas can't do anything in front of alastair.

He snaps his mouth closed and walks towards the corner of the room, where they are seated. Dean lifts his head up as soon as Cas stops in front of their table. Cas avoids eye contact with him, and waits for the rest of the men to acknowledge his existence. Alastair is the first to notice him, looking up, and lifting his eyebrows in surprise. Then beard gives a smile, a eat shit kinda of smile, that makes cas want to lunge across the table at him. "What can i get for you guys?" He forces, watching Dean lower his head again. Cas frowns at he movement but he can't make a scene not here, not without Dean paying for it.

 

Alastair speaks first, his slithery tone sending spikes of ice down Cas' spine "You boys order. I have everything i need right here." Dean jumps, hitting the table so hard that the silverware rattles across the top. His green eyes go wide, and his head shoots up, he stares at Cas. Something darkening his bright green eyes, as he looks around the table at the chuckling men. Cas bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, DO NOT INTERFERE. Alastair returns to his activity's from earlier, kissing Dean's neck once again. Cas tears his eyes away with a jerk of his head towards the tattood man, a shiver making his body wiggle uncomfortably. The man he is now staring at, has his eyes locked onto Dean still, longingly. But he doesn't go to deep into thoughts about what the man is thinking about Dean, mostly because it will make it even harder to hold his anger down, and act somewhat normal.

 

After a few moments, of shifting back and forth, beard finally speaks up. Cas almost runs back to the bar to fill their order, he knows these men are trying there best to make him awkward, and angry. And he will try his hardest not to let these men succeed. He starts working on the drinks, as slowly as he can manage, pouring and mixing with sluggish movements. He can feel Meg staring at him from across the bar, he imagines that she's looking at him with a confused look, her brows knitted together and her lips pursed out in a pout/ frown. Still, the slow drink making is not slow enough because before he knows it he is finished making them and walking back towards the table. With tray in hand he moves smoothly over to their table. He makes sure to keep his eyes trained on the drinks (Almost all overflowing because he was wasting as much time as he possibly could) He just can't put more strain on his calm, and seeing Dean in the position he's in now? That is definitely going to break it open, all of his control would slip, and he would be charged with triple murder.

He stops when the brown edge of the table comes into view.

He sets the drinks down carefully, one by one, making sure they don't spill everywhere. He tries not to notice how there are only three drinks, instead of four (like there should be) Which means that Dean doesn't get an escape from this nightmare. Cas doesn't even look up until all the drinks are placed on the table. When he does look up however, Dean is gone. Dean is fucking gone, Cas' eyes go wide and his heart leaps. Alastair and the bearded man are still sitting, but the tattoo man is gone as well. Which raises panic deep inside his gut, without thinking he turns quickly (leaving the tray on the table) and walks away without another word. Completely forgetting that he is at work and has a job to do. Only thing that he can focus on now is Dean, he's not at the table and neither is tattoo man.

Meg gives him a strange look as he passes her, setting the drinks down faster to try and catch up to him. She calls his name a couple of times, but it is all lost in the drowning noises. Cas speeds up and comes around the bar.

He pushes through the double doors, walking straight past the hooks, past crowleys office, and out the back door. He stops there and lets his gaze wander, cars and a couple people he doesn't recognize are scattered like usual around the dark lot. He steps a little further out, poking his head around to peer into the alley, just the homeless man and a couple walking towards the busy street. when nothing is out of place he Immediately begins walking around the parking lot. Still nothing strange, and no sight of Dean anywhere. only thing he does find is a coule making out inside of their car. So he makes his legs work and walks through the alley and around front. There he spots tattoo guy, the man is leaning against the building, talking on his phone, with a cigerette pressed between his lips. This seems to calm his frantic worrying a little, but not enough for him to stop looking. So he walks around back once more, still finding no sign of Dean.

 

Figuring he isn't outside, Cas opens the back door again and walks back through the double doors, he makes his way back into the main part of the bar. He looks over to the table once more, just to make sure Dean didn't come back while he was gone. As suspected, no Dean, just Alastair and beard. He is really starting to freak out now, he takes his eyes off of Dean for two seconds, and now he is missing. Unless? Cas thinks, there is still one place he hasn't checked. He turns quickly, passing Meg, who looks at him like he has lost his mind, but doesn't say anything. He walks down the secluded hallway, reaching the very end where he pushes through a deep dark red swinging door that reads 'Mens'. 

 

It opens to the plain white and blue tiled room, with green stalls lining the walls. He looks around once before walking in further. Once the door is shut behind him, he hears the vomiting noises and the rustling of feet. He bends over, and looks underneath the stalls, only one is occupied. It looks as though it might be Dean, the same worn out jeans kneeling against the white tile. But Cas does not want to take that chance, and then have it be someone else entirely. So he moves forward, so that he is closer to the stall, but not too close. And takes a deep breath "Hey, you okay?" He asks loudly, to be heard over the vomiting.

 

There is a rustle, and then a click "Cas?" Comes the whispered reply. Oh, thank god, it's him, Cas thinks gratefully. He moves over fully to the stall "Dean? you okay?" He asks worriedly, moving a little closer, seeing that the clicking noise was Dean unlocking the stall. He pushes the stall door fully open, revealing a hunched over Dean. Dean looks back for half a second, then returns to the toilet, convulsing more. He looks horrible, his eyes bloodshot from crying, and his body shaking uncontrollably, his hands grabbing the sides forcefully. Cas drops to his knees, beside him, and puts a comforting hand on his hunched over back. Feeling his weak body shake beneath his cold fingers, his breathing ragged and irregular.

 

Dean half sobs, half chokes, tears and spit dropping into the toilet. He leans into the touch ever so slightly, craving the comforting touch. Sitting up fully he flushes the toilet, then reaches beside him for toilet paper. Wiping his face, then spitting once more "Sorry.." he whispers. Cas furrows his brow, then shakes his head "Sorry for what? you have got nothing to be sorry for Dean." Dean lets out a humorless laugh slash sob, before sitting back against Cas' chest. He hestitates for a moment before giving in and wrapping his arms around Dean, kissing the back of his neck softly. "Are you okay?" Cas whispers into his ear, relishing in the shiver he gets in response. Dean nods "I'm fine." Cas knows this is a lie, but lets it go, for now. "Are you sick?" Cas asks, getting curios is to why Alastair would take him somewhere in this condition. Another nod, but this one is a 'no' "No, i just felt sick when i saw how they were teasing, and in front of you. I didn't really throw up, just dry heaving." Cas grabs one of Dean's hands and laces his fingers through his cold, shaking one's, then rests his chin on dean's shoulder. Finding comfort in the silence, and having his body so close to his once again. He knows that this would be awkward with anyone else, but Dean isn't just anybody. And from the way he is calming down and leaning into every touch that Cas gives him, he thinks that Dean likes this as much as he does.

 

And because last time Cas crawled into bed with Dean, he woke up alone, so he would like to get back the time he lost with Dean. This bond they have with each other, that Dean feels so safe when with Cas, it makes Cas feel as though he is doing the right thing. Even though sometimes he feels that he can't fix this, or help Dean sometimes, he still believes that this is good. These are the times that he thinks that maybe everything is going to be okay.

 

"Dean."

 

Alastair.

 

Dean muscles lock and tighten, he turns himself around, his eyes wide and frightened as he stares at the stall door. Cas lets his hand be dropped to his lap, and his brain starts working overtime. How in the hell are they supposed to get out of this one? Dean seems to figure it out before him because he flips back over and leans in towards Cas "Stay right here, i'll handle this. Just please stay quiet, no matter what happens. I can't let him know that we have been seeing each other again."

 

"Dean." Alastair's voice comes again, more commanding this time.

 

Cas nods, even though he knows it's not the right thing to do. But from the desperation and fear he can hear in Dean's voice he let's it happen. He doesn't think that he should hide, he thinks he should go out and fight. But then again he will listen to Dean, to make him happy, to protect him. Cas stands as quietly as possible then puts the lid to the toilet down slowly, while Dean opens the stall and walks out. He sits, lifting his legs to his chest so he can't be seen if someone were to look under the stalls.

 

There's the noise of Dean's shoes hitting the tile, and then nothing.

 

Cas wants to look, he needs to see what is happening, but restrains his curiousity, and stays put.

 

"What are you doing? you've been gone for a while now." Alastair says in an accusing voice.

 

No answer.

 

Click. The sound of the bathroom door being locked. Cas swallows his anger, and hugs his knees against his chest.

 

More footsteps. "Answer me. It's not polite to ignore people when they're talking to you, Dean."

 

there is a small yelp, followed by a bang. Cas jumps from where he sits, clenching his jaw as tight as it can go. For Dean for Dean for Dean, stay still, for Dean.

 

Cas' stomach rolls, and his fists clench his jeans. He can't see what is going on, but he has a pretty good idea.

 

"I...I." Dean stutters out his shoes squeak across the tile.

 

"You what Dean? spit it out." Alastair replies, more anger in his voce then before.

 

"I felt sick. That's all." Dean spits more forcefully, and more quickly than before.

 

Another yelp, then kissing noises. "Awe, poor Dean. Somehow i think your lying." Alastair says, venom in his slithery voice.

 

A half muffled scream.

Cas has one foot on the ground before he notices what he's doing and hugs it back against his chest.

"N-n-noo, I i swear. I j-just felt sick." Dean pleads, quietly.

 

Cas is going to kill that bastard, but still can't find in himself to move. Because if he moves, then Dean gets the punishment.

 

"You know what happens when you lie to me Dean?" Al says through clenched teeth, his breath heavy in the quiet room.

 

No answer.

 

Bang, yelp, sob.

 

"Dean?" Al whispers this time, tuning out the sound of struggling in the back ground.

Cas ignores the burning in his jaw and the cracking of his knuckles.

No answer.

 

Sobbing. Sniffling.

 

"Answer me!" Al screams, just enough to scare Dean, but not for anyone to disturb.

 

More crying.

Dean doesn't deserve this. He doesn't fucking deserve any of this.

"Punishment." Dean whispers brokenly.

 

Cas' heart sinks, and his chest feels tight. He can't move, he knows that he has to stay put, for Deans sake.

 

"Good boy." Alastair cooes, like he's talking to a puppy.

 

Silence.

 

Then more struggling, alot more. The sound of clothes, and squeeking of shoes. Cas almost loses his cool then, he has to bite his tongue and dig his nails into his legs.

 

"Al, baby." Dean drags in a deep wavory breath. "Stop. Please...Not here." he whispers breathlessly, his begging lost in heavy breathing.

 

"shh." Al snaps angrily in response.

 

Rustling of jeans, and then a sob.

Don't move don't move.

Cas feels like he is going to scream, like he is going to explode with anger. But still sits helplessly on the toilet, listening. A zipper sounds, and a muffled scream, followed by more desperate crying.

 

Cas can tell he is trying to hold it back, trying to make it easier for Cas to stay still. He covers his own mouth to keep from screaming out, feeling fresh hot tears run down his cheeks, and onto his hand. He can't listen to the man he loves cry for help, while Cas is powerless to do anything about it.

 

Finally the sound Cas has been dreading, the sound of skin on skin. The sounds echo's around the bathroom, sounding violent, like he is bruising Dean just by how hard he is thrusting.

 

Cas closes his eyes, imagining he is somewhere else, anywhere else. This is to horrible for him to witness, this is to horrible for anyone to take. Dean is already so broken, and this monster intends on breaking him more.

 

In between the endless slapping of skin, he can hear Dean's pleas, his cry for help. And then Alastair's erratic breathing, and his dirty replies, that sound violent and threatening. All of this echoing unpleaslently around the tiled room.

 

More struggling noises.

 

And then complete silence.

 

"Good boy." Al whispers at last, his words dripping venom and evil.

 

"Now, clean yourself up. And get back out here. I won't ask twice." He commands, before more footsteps, and then the door unlocking, and opening. Cas is still holding his hand over his mouth, just aching for the door to close again. So he can go and take Dean into his arms once more. It feels wrong that he had to sit there and listen to the horror, it feels even worse knowing that he could have done something, and didn't.

 

Cas jumps off of the toilet when he hears the door close, his heart pounding so hard that he can barely hear anything else. He bursts out of the stall like a rabid animal running and looking around frantically. Then he spots him, on the floor, next to the sinks, across from the door. Dean looks even more wrecked than before, if that is even possible. He's leaning against the tile wall, his knees against his chest, and his head resting across his arms. He still has his pants around his ankles, which reveals blood leeking onto the tile, and bruises already forming on his hips.

 

Cas doesn't have a second thought about it, he just runs over to Dean and pulls his shaking body forward. Wrapping his arms protectivly around him, and pressing a hand to the back of his head, and the other to his back. He can hear Dean's heartbeat beating rapidly, he can feel the tears soaking through his work shirt. The little shudders of fear running through Dean like electrocution. He let's Dean cry, he let's him grip his t shirt and push into him harder. He hushes him, and rubs his back soothingly, holding back tears that threaten to pour down his own face. Every time Dean cries, he feels a piece of his own heart being ripped out.

 

"It's okay. I got you." Cas whispers, kissing the top of Dean's head "I got you." He repeats softly. I will always have you, Dean, i will always protect you, no matter the cost. Dean pulls back from Cas' hold, his sobs slowing into tremors and hiccups. He grabs a hold of his pants and winces, as more blood leaks through the cracks in the tile. He tries again to pull, with another grunt of pain. Cas finally has enough and can't watch this any longer, he grabs his frustrated hands as softly as he can manage, and pulls them off of Deans pants. Dean stills, and looks up in Confusion. His eyes are still fogged over in pain, and tear tracks are drying over his freckled cheeks. Cas Gives him a small sad smile and takes Dean's pants in his hands. He pushes them up as carefully as possible.

 

Then buttons them and zips the fly closed. Dean is still staring when he looks up, Blue crashing into green. And Cas stares back, letting his brows lift up, and his worry dissapate. Dean shifts forward, onto his knees, still locked onto Cas. Before he leans in and locks there lips together at last, placing his hands on either side of Cas' face. His lips are soft, and wet, the kiss sending flutters of excitement up his spine. But there is something more to the kiss, something  _deeper._ The feeling of losing himself completely in the kiss, letting himself fall deeper and deeper. The spikes of lightening hitting his heart, making it light up in very way possible. He is gentle, passionate, and addicting, the way he puckers his lips is amazing. He is running out of breath and doesn't even care, because he needs more, he needs to feel Dean this way forever. And before he even realized what this feeling is, Dean pulls back. Letting himself breath and look back to Cas, with a smile on his lips. 

 

He lay his head back down on Cas' shoulder, letting Cas wrap his arms around Dean once more. And while he is sitting there, on the bathroom floor, with Dean, he realizes what the feeling is. It is love, he is completely and utterly in love with Dean Winchester. Cas lay his head on Dean's shoulder in return, smiling at the thought. And then Dean whispers "Thanks, Cas."


	11. healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! I've been super sick theses last couple days. ...
> 
> Anyway I really hope you guys like it! And hope for dean!:)
> 
> Finally finished ...

He was starting to think he was crazy, to fall in love this early, it was kind of crazy. Cas was sure that his feelings for Dean were wrong, that he shouldn't even be thinking of him in that way. And yet it all worked out. All that matters now is dean. He knows he needs to protect and save him, but then he doesn't know how to start. He will need some kind of proof to even get the polices attention, and has no idea how to even get it. Of course he could show them the bruises, the marks Al left across deans body. The only problem with that is that the cops in this town are lazy, and won't make a move until it's too late. That's why he is going to do every thing in his power to keep Dean safe until he does come up with a plan.

He will figure it out, no matter how bad it can get, he will rid dean of Alastair. So Castiel just squeezes Dean more tightly, relishing in their couple moments of comfort. He knows he can't stay long, but he can still enjoy having dean in his arms.

The moment is over to soon, dean jumps up when he hears a bang from the hallway. Castiel slowly stands as well, and looks at dean. He leans forward planting one last quick kiss to deans lips. And then watches him leave the bathroom, with his head down. 

He soon follows, and goes back to work. Only to find that dean, Alastair, and beard have gone. Leaving the tattooed guy all alone in his booth. 

...

Of course that's not the last time he sees dean today, no, he has plans to watch a movie with him tonight. He had invited dean the morning he slept in cas' bed. And to his surprise dean said yes. He just hopes there plans are still on, after what happened earlier, he thinks that they are. Cas is also hoping that gabriel will be there, he thinks that Dean may have some mixed feelings about Gabe, but over all he is a comfort to have around, and he is sure that Dean will warm up to him. Especially because they are still in that awkward crush stage, and cas needs someone to help ease the quiet. 

He finishes putting the glasses away, then grabs a broom to help meg on the lobby. Just one more hour, and he gets to go home, most importantly he gets to see dean again. So he sweeps underneath the tables, and the chairs, slow enough to do a good job. But fast enough that he will get done on time for closing. They usually close early on Mondays, because usually people don't drink as much on those days. You know work, and having a family, it doesn't really let you go out and get drunk especially on a Monday. 

Meg glances at him every few seconds, with something like wonderment on her features. And as always cas ignores it, and keeps cleaning. 

...

by the time it's closing, there is no one left in the bar, and everything Is cleaned up. Which means the only thing left to do is garbage, then they get to head home. Cas gathers them all up, like every other night. And he makes his way to the dumpster, and throws them in.

Gets in his car, hears the homeless man ranting about something, then begins to drive home.

...

 

Cas unlocks the front door, and steps in, immediately smelling chocolate chip cookies. Gabe is home, just like he had hoped. Cas throws his keys down, and hangs his coat up, walking further into the house. It's quiet, which is strange, because Gabe is always making noise. Cas figures he his hiding out in his room, probably just a bad day at work.

"Cassie!" Comes the obnoxious call, so much for the quiet. He follows the voice into his room, and sees gabe with his computer, sitting on his bed. There are also cookie crumbs everywhere. "What are you doing?" Cas asks, tilting his head curiously. Gabriel smiles, grabbing another cookie, and shoving it into his mouth. He pats the bed, for Cas to come sit by him. He moves forward stifly, then sits down, Gabe scooting over slightly for more room. "Why are you in my room?" Cas asks curiously, leaning over to see Gabe's computer screen. "It's more comfy in here, plus you have a soft bed." Gabe chimes happily, typing more quickly now. Cas huffs, leaning in closer to see Gabe typing Dean's name into the search engine. 

He tilts his head, and looks over to Gabe with furrowed brows. "What are you doing?" He finally asks, still staring at Gabriel. Gabe smiles again, chewing his second bite of the cookie slowly. "Thought i'd search up your new boyfriend, make sure he's safe." Gabe winks sarcastically. Cas glares back, looking to the screen, nothing has popped up, yet. "He's not my boyfriend." Cas says seriously, even though he doesn't believe his own words. "mmhmm.." Gabe taunts back, clicking on the next page for more information. Cas glares some more, of course Dean isn't his, not yet anyway, not until he says it out loud. "I've seen the way you look at him, Cassie. You are totally crushing on him, unless you guys are already together." He winks again, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Cas hides his smile, then turns it into a glare. He hops off of the bed, and grabs some clothes out of his closet, and leaves the room completely. He ignores the obnoxious calls Gabe screams after him, sure Gabe is annoying, but they are related. And family is something he can deal with easily. Cas puts on some clean clothes, throwing his work one's into the laundry hamper. When Cas walks past his room again, Gabe is still sitting, eating, what he guesses is his third cookie. He is surprised his brother hasn't eatin himself into a sugar coma, or been diagnosed with diabetes. Cas laughs at the thought, and grabs one of his favorite books off of the shelve.

It's been a long time since he has been able to just relax, even if it's only for a moment. Because Dean should be here any moment, he can barely hold still, he is practically shaking with excitement. So he plants himself down on the couch, and opens his book up to his bookmarked spot. All of the words slowly coming back, and the story unraveling in front of him. He isn't even a chapter in before he hears Gabe yelling from his room. "Cassie!!!" He yells "Hey!" comes more "Come here!" he whines.

Cas rolls his eyes once again, and forces his muscles to move. Walking into his room to see the computer lying on the bed, and Gabriel looking out the window. He clears his throat, and waits for Gabe to turn towards him. When he does he has a huge smile across his face "Your boyfriend's here Cassie." He teases. Cas glares again, he is really hoping having Gabe here wasn't a bad idea. If he goes on teasing him all night, Cas is surely going to dread being here. He can't take the embarrassment, especially in front of Dean, mostly because he does have a crush on him, and yes he thinks he might be in love with him as well. And if Gabe is going to point it out in front of him all night, he might just go crazy.

Gabriel whistles "He looks a lot better than the last time I saw him too."

A couple moments later there's a knock on the door, and a high pitched squealing coming from.....Cas looks back into his room, Gabriel. He squints his eyes, and glares, how obnoxious can his brother be. Cas turns around, only to be pushed backwards by Gabe. He runs past him, and throws a smile over his shoulder. Cas really wishes he didn't invite Gabriel to be here, but then again he lives here, so it wasn't really his choice. Cas slowly follows behind, watching as he unlocks the door and greets Dean. Cas peeks around Gabe's shoulder's and catches a glimpse of Dean. As always he is perfect as ever, wearing a grey v neck t shirt, with black worn out jeans, and his usual hiking boots. He looks different somehow, maybe it's the lack of bruises, or that his hair is spiked up, or maybe it's because he has a smile on his face.

Cas gapes at him, he is smiling, that is what is different. He has never seen him smile before, not for real anyway. And it looks amazing on him, he actually looks happy. Not to mention his teeth are perfect, white, and curve in slightly. That's not the only thing that his smile makes astonishing, his green eyes are bright, you can barely see the hurt lying underneath. Dean catches his eyes, and Cas blushes looking down to the floor. "Come in." Gabe says sweetly, almost teasingly. 

Dean nods and walks in, the front door closing behind him. He stands stiff for a moment, looking around for more instruction. He has been told what to do for so long that he has forgotten how to move all alone. Gabe plops on the couch, and pats the cushion next to him, with a lazy smile. "Popcorn, anyone?" Cas asks, already making his way over to the kitchen. Dean perks up, and smiles back "Yeah." 

Cas leaves the room completely, just as Gabe starts to make conversation. He peels the plastic off of the popcorn bag, and puts it into the microwave. Leaning on the counter top, until it beeps, then takes it out, and pours it into a large red bowl. Walking back into the living room he almost drops it onto the floor. Gabe has the photo album out, but not just that, he has Cas' baby pictures out. And he is telling the stories behind them. "This one's my favorite. Cassie has always been obsessed with bees. I was left to babysit him, and found a huge bees nest out back. I told him about the bees, and told him that he should bring them inside so we can watch the bees."

Cas remembers this day, he was only about three or four. And at the time he didn't know about bees stinging, always just thought they were the nice cartoon one's you saw on TV. So he had listened to Gabriel, thinking that this was the best idea in the world. He went outside, finding that the nest was too high for him to reach. Gabriel of course doesn't give up easy on his pranks, so he went out back with Cas and lifted him up high enough for his little hands to reach it. As soon as he touched the nest, he was swarmed with angry wasps. 

By the time his mom got home, his face was swollen and Gabe had already taken a picture. They thought it was cute.....he did not. 

Dean looks over his shoulder, smiling at Cas. "I was four years old, Gabe, alot of things were interesting." Cas growls, half angrily, and half embarrassed. Gabe laughs in return, pulling out another picture. One that makes Cas lunge forward, and rip it out of his hands. He is not about to share all of this embarrassing things with Dean, not yet, and not while Gabe is here. "Touchy." he says sarcastically, leaning across Dean, and punching Cas in the shoulder. Cas smiles back, and then grabs his arm "Ow." 

Cas laughs, then looks over to Dean, who is sitting quietly, but smiling between the two. "I hope he didn't ruin your whole visit." Cas jokes, shooting one last warning glare to Gabriel. "No, of course not. Although some of yours pictures were." He pauses, smiling "Interesting." He finishes. What all did he see? Cas blushes at the thought. Then stands to avoid all of the pointed looks that Gabe is giving him. And grabs one of the remotes, tossing it to Gabriel, then sitting back down. Dean grabs the popcorn from him, and the TV flicks on. Playing some Christmas re runs, Cas almost forgot, next week is Christmas.

Throughout the movie, Cas can barely keep his eyes off of Dean. He's sure he is gawking, but he doesn't care enough to stop. Dean is gorgeous, the way the lights from the TV flicker across his freckled face. And the way he laughs.....Oh god, the way he laughs. His whole face lights up, his nose crinkles, and his ears perk upwards. Cas just wants to pause life for a moment, and capture the rare moment. He thinks that Dean notices Cas staring, but doesn't make a move to stop him. His green eyes flicker over to him every few minutes, and he smiles. 

Cas thinks he can stare at him for hours, maybe even count the flawless freckles. Dean looks over slightly, again, and bites his lip. Cas has to blink a couple times, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Sure enough, he wasn't. Dean then flips his hand over, on the cushion, next to Cas. He wiggles his fingers, and in a heartbeat Cas entwines his slender fingers into Dean's bronze one's. Dean fully looks over to Cas, and smiles, then looks back to the TV. 

...

Before he knows it, the movie has ended, Gabriel had gone to bed, and Dean is snuggled in close to his chest. "you know." he whispers thoughtfully into Cas' shoulder. "You were actually a pretty adorable kid." he states with a grin. Cas snorts a laugh "Sorry you had to see that." He whispers back. Silence fills the room then, not uncomfortable, but not exactly cozy either. Dean coughs, and sits up fully "I should probably get home" He whispers. Cas' heart drops, and the comfort slowly leaks away, replaced by panic, and worry. "Right." Cas says back, running his hand through his tangled hair. Dean sits forward, coughs again, and then replies "See you tomorrow?" Cas smiles towards him, his brows still furrowed, and worry still invading. His expression then goes hard "Are you okay?" He asks sincerely, placing a hand on his shoulder, for comfort. Dean runs his hand over his face, then turns to Cas, any real emotion hidin behind his mask. "Peachy." He replies, avoiding all emotion in his voice. 

Cas places his other hand on Deans face, leaning forward slightly. Dean meeting him halfway, in a kiss. He lets his eyes fall closed, and his worries fade out momentarily. As always, his lips are soft, unbelievably soft, and his breath is hot. Sending unimaginable spikes of lighting down Cas' spine, and flutters straight to his heart. He feels like he can barely hold himself together around Dean, especially like this. Cas' hand travels from his cheek, to his neck, finally stilling on Dean's heaving chest. Maybe he is just as worked up as Cas, or maybe he is giving him a panic attack? Cas pulls back ubruptly, studying Dean's features worriedly. But he doesn't look freaked out, just a little shocked by Cas' movement.

"Sorry." Cas whispers, not making an attempt to explain. He is sure Dean is perfectly aware of his weird movements, and doesn't think twice about it. He just smiles, pats Cas' leg, and stands up, Cas following. He stands up and follows Dean's slow movements to the front door. The feeling of the kiss still vibrating through his body, pleasantly. The next thought, and feeling are so overwhelming, that Cas has no choice but to act on them.

He grabs Dean by the shoulders, and pushes him against the wall. Just enough to feel good, but not to hurt him. Taking the surprised gasp as a green light to move forward. Cas grabs the back of Dean's neck, and pulls his face down towards him. Engulfing in the erotic kiss once more. Cas feels like he is starving for more, craving it. And the more he gets, the better his body feels, and the more he succumbs to the lust. Which is practically driving him mad.

He once again lets his hand travel, but only to his chest. Feeling Dean's breath come faster and faster with want. Cas knows he needs to control himself, but can't, absolutely cannot.


	12. believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alright, I know it is painful.  
> but promise to fix it.....if I can.   
>  hope for Dean.

The kiss was just starting to become heated, as if it wasn't before. But now Dean is pushing back into him, so hard that his lips are pulsing, and their teeth are clicking together. their breath heavy, and clashing between their faces, echoing throughout the room quietly. Cas is egged on when Dean lets out a low groan, one that rattles through his throat and vibrates his lips pleasantly. That's when his control slips just a little more, almost completely gone. He runs his hands further down Dean's chest, stopping just above his belt. Dean stiffens, pulling back slightly, but relaxes again when Cas pulls his head back down. He decides to run his hands up underneath dean's shirt, feeling the raised scars all over his torso. Dean is warm, his chest moving in fast breaths, and there is not as many scars as Cas imagined. 

The heated moment is gone to fast, Dean braces his hands on Cas' chest. He pushes softly at first, his breath becoming more ragged and short. Then he begins to push hard against Cas. It takes a moment for him to realize it, but when he does, he pulls back, in one fast jerky move. Cas immediately removes his hands from Dean, staring at him like he has just been shocked. Dean is shaking, his breath still ragged, and his eyes are blown wide with fear and lust. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize.." Cas apologizes, quietly, still staring up to Dean with scared eyes. Dean closes his eyes, and runs a shaky hand over his face, shaking his head back and forth like the night he had told Cas about beard. He is so selfish for thinking that Dean wouldn't be emotionally scarred from his time with Alastair. 

There are probably certain trigger movements, or touches, that set Dean off. Maybe even send certain memories rushing back, which is probably why he moves and reacts differently to certain things. Cas takes a step back, giving Dean some time to think, and sort things out, and some room to breath. He is surprised when Dean takes a step forward, and takes Cas into a hug. "It's not your fault." Dean finally replies softly into his ear. Cas relaxes, and wraps his arm around Dean in return. 

"Wrong time?" comes the familiar, half asleep voice from behind Cas. He jumps, both Dean and himself letting each other go immediately. Cas flips himself around, to see Gabriel standing in the kitchen doorway, his hair sticking very which way and his arms folded casually across his chest. Crap, just what Cas needs, more things for Gabriel to tease him about. What exactly is he supposed to tell Gabe? We were just saying goodbye?.....

Either way Gabe is going to know what they were doing, that's most likely why he woke up and came to see what all the noise was about. Cas stares blankly, his cheeks feel as though they are on fire, and his stomach is doing nervous flips. Gabe's lips lift into a smile, and his eyebrows wiggle at Cas, then his eyes flick over to Dean, and he winks. Cas almost chokes, on surprise. Gabe then turns on his heel yelling "Night boys." and goes back into his room with a click. Dean is laughing behind him, but in no way does Cas see this as funny, he is embarrassed that he was caught, and so soon. They have only kissed twice now, twice! and Gabe has already caught him in the act.

Cas turns around, to see Dean smiling, and he can't help himself. By the way Dean is looking at him with that big goofy smile, he can't help but smile too. Which only a few moments later turns into a laughing fit between the two. And damn't, he almost forgot how amazing dean's laugh was, he wishes he could just hold onto it forever. Cas practically looks at him in adoration. He ends up laughing so much that his stomach starts to hurt, and he can barely breath. 

Just like everything else good in life, their laughing slowed, and eventually stopped. Dean coughs a little, then his expression falls. Cas tilts his head questioningly, his brows knitting together. "Dean?" He says in a worried voice, almost breaching scared. Dean then reaches into his pocket, pulls out a buzzing phone, the contact calling reading Alastair. Cas then does breech fear, like he says all good things come to an end, especially if your name is Dean Winchester. Dean looks at the phone, then looks back up to Cas with wide eyes. In one fast movement dean flips his phone open "Hello?" He says as sweetly as possible. Cas can hear screaming from the other side of the line, maybe even something like.....like music. 

He doesn't want to be snoopy, but he leans in closer so that he can hear the screaming more clearly, but still not making out any words. Although now he can confirm that it is indeed music playing in the background. Dean stiffens at the noises, clearly getting upset by the words being spoken "Okay." he replies after a moment. Quietly, and obediently, like Alastair has taught him. Cas is starting to get sick of this little sherade game they are playing, he want's Alastair out. Or even better dead. He is getting sick of the bastard always bossing Dean around, tugging on his leash, with dean following behind like a good boy. 

He didn't think it was possible, but the screaming get's louder. Making Dean physically shudder, and take a step back, so that he is leaning against the front door. Dean shakes his head "Alright." he whispers back. Cas' anger is boiling up, and fast. He stays completely still, staring at the hurt that is slowly spreading across Dean's face. His fists clench and unclench beside his sides, as he continues to listen. Only succeeding in hearing some more screaming, which only makes him angrier. What he thinks is even worse is that Dean sits there, and let's him yell, without a single complaint. 

Dean nods again, clenching his jaw, and swallowing constantly. Cas is really dying to know what Alastair is saying to him, especially because this was such a random call. Dean refuses to make any kind of eye contact the whole time he is on the phone, even though Cas tries. The yelling calms for a moment, almost long enough for him to think that he is finally done talking. Only to pick up a moment later, and loud, Cas catching onto the words "worthless." and "Fuck.". Cas leans closer now, his temper hanging on the edge. One more push, he thinks, one more, and I am going to kill him. He also knows that he thinks this a lot, but never acts, and that's only because he hasn't had a chance to kill the bastard....yet.

Dean nods, and lowers his head to stare at the floor "I know," he replies, still using hushed tone's. He then puts one hand to his face, covering his eyes, so that Cas can't see him cry, he guesses. The next sound that Dean makes is heartwrenching, he was attempting to say ok, but it came out as a choked cry. Cas' anger then boiled over the top, He takes one step forward, snatches the cell from Dean's hand, and snaps it in half. Dropping the phone to the ground in disgust, and noting the surprised gasp from Dean. Sure he didn't have to break his phone, but now he can't call back. Plus he will buy Dean a new one.

Cas looks up, to be met with pleading eyes, mixed with fear. "I'm sor-." Cas is cut off by Dean pushing past him, and walking down the hallway. 

 

Shit.

Cas runs after him, hearing the bathroom door close ahead of him.

He stops in front of the door just in time to hear vomiting.

Cas knocks twice, quietly "Dean? Are you okay?" 

There's a flush, and then some rustling of feet "Fine." He replies.

A second later the door opens, and Dean walks out. His whole body is still shaking, and his face is pale, but other than that he looks fine. Cas looks at him confused for a moment, then nods, letting the fact that Dean is clearly sick go. "Um, I should probably go." Dean says, staring at the floor, and moving forward past Cas. He follows behind him, watching as he walks to the front door. He doesn't know how tonight turned from good to bad so quickly, but he does not like it one bit. He has a bad feeling again, and this time he is not going to sit around and let it happen. "Dean." he says firmly, standing up straighter. Dean turns around, and gives him a strange look, keeping completely quiet. 

Cas narrows his eyes "You aren't going anywhere." 

tbc..


	13. war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, I know the last chapter was short. writers block something fierce. I will try and make this one longer. 
> 
> hope for DEAN.
> 
> Finished.   
> and I apologize, i'm not very good at fighting scenes:/  
> But I hope you like it.

Cas stands more confidently, squaring his shoulders, and pushing his chest out. There is no way Dean is leaving this house, not again. Dean was stiff, he kind of reminded Cas of a scolded dog. And although Cas didn't want to force or scare Dean, if it came down to it he would. All because he loved Dean, and he would do anything to keep him safe. "I can't stay." Dean whispered, pressing his body against the door further, and removing his eyes from Cas'. He took a step forward, staying strong with his movements, narrowing his eyes he spoke deeply "Yes, you can. And you are."

Dean snapped his mouth closed, clenching his jaw over and over again, his chest heaving from fear, once again. What has he gotten himself into? Was Cas just another man that wanted to use him. Dean chokes, and his eyes water, he can't make the same mistake again. His chest feels tight, so tight that he can't drag in enough air, and the walls threatening to close in on him. Dean is practically gasping for air, he can't, is the only thing running through his mind. Not another person pretending to love him, just to hurt him, and take everything away. Even though Dean has already given everything already, he is sure they can find more to take, to destroy.

Cas furrows his brows, completely taken back by Dean's reaction. Realizing more of just how screwed up Dean really is, sure he saw it before, but not as much as right now. Everything is exposed, his emotions, his scars, and most of all the damage. Dean is gasping, like he can't breath, or more likely, like he is having a panic attack. Cas immediately regrets his choice to be stubborn, and mean to Dean. He reaches forward, grabbing his shoulders, and pulling him towards his chest. Dean's chest is moving violently, his body is shaking stiffly. Dean's hands are grabbing blindly at Cas' shirt, as if it will help the air come. cas doesn't know how to start calming him down, he doesn't even think that his actions could have triggered such a violent reaction.

All he can think to do is hug Dean tighter, rub his back softly, and whisper reassuring words. Cas has no idea how to deal with this kind of thing, doesn't even fully believe that it is only a panic attack. Although Cas' soft voice seems to calm him down after a while. Tonight has been the worst roller coaster of his life, he is ready for it to just end already. Cas keeps his whispering up, waiting until dean's chest starts to slow, and his breath starts to calm. Cas begins to think that the war isn't even half way over.

He slowly raises Dean up, so that he can see his face, and as suspected, he looks like a wreck. "Let's go to bed." Cas says quietly, half statement, half question. Dean just nods, finally giving in to staying here with Cas. Which settles Cas' emotions, and wipes away some of he worry. He takes dean's shaking hand, and leads the way to his room. Navigating through the dark, only dodging thins from memory. Cas opens his door, then leads towards the bed, letting Dean lie down first. He lays on his side facing the wall, his knees curled towards his chest protectively. Then Cas climbs in beside him, pulling the blanket over him and Dean. He lays on his back, staring at the ceiling, thinking of tonight's, way to fast by the way, events. He can't believe all of this happened in just a matter of hours, all of those emotion changes can't be healthy.

Cas glances over to Dean, his body is shaking still, and he knows that Dean is most likely silently crying. Probably taught himself how to, so that Alastair didn't get mad. He looks back up towards the ceiling. Alastair, what in the hell is he going to do about him? Cas places a hand on Dean's shaking back, cringing inwardly when he jumps, and stiffens. Cas rubs soothingly up and down his spine, stopping high enough on his way down, so that it stays comfortable. He is surprised when Dean rolls over and lays on Cas' chest, wrapping his arm around his waist, and one leg over the top of Cas'.

...

Dean's muscles ache, and his head is throbbing with a massive migrane. When he forces his tired eyes open, the lights singe, and the headache thrums harder. groaning he rolls onto his back, coughing when his stomach protests the movement. He feels worse than yesterday, a lot worse. Maybe today will be his lucky day, and it will all end. He rolls onto his side, and notices that Cas isn't next to him anymore. The bed is empty, and cold where Cas should be laying. Dean looks around the room, no sign of Cas, he must have left early this morning. Dean grabs Cas' pillow and shoves his face into it, missing his presence already. Cas is really the only thing now that keeps him from raising a gun to his head, For some reason anytime Cas speaks, or even touches him, it seems like all of his worries fall away. He feels safe around him.

"Fuck you. You have no right to be here, and you have no right to even speak to him, or see him ever again." Dean jumps at the sound of Cas' voice. He sits straight up and continues to listen, staring at the door like it is going to swing open, with someone he really doesn't ever want to see again behind it. How long has he been asleep? and what has he missed? Dean stiffens underneath the blankets, still holding onto Cas' pillow, hugging it tighter against his heaving chest.

"Move out of my way." Comes the reply, from whom Dean was dreading. He cringes, closing his eyes shut as hard as he can, and shoving his face into his pillow. He pulls his knees up so that the pillow is between his face and his thighs. And then he waits, he waits for the door to open, and for Alastair to take a hold of his arm, and then drag him home. Dean screams into the pillow, until his lungs are emptied of all air. Then he breaths back in, smelling the green apple shampoo that Cas uses. The smell calms his nerves, almost like a relaxing drug. Of course it doesn't last for long, but it is still nice to know that the simplest thing can calm him down.

"No. I'm not about to let you trespass." Cas yells again, a stubbornness in his tone. One that says i'm not going to give up, no matter what. Don't get Dean wrong he is flattered that Cas is fighting so hard to keep him. But he doesn't think he is worth saving, and he does not see what he is worth. Cas looks, and treats him like he is made of gold, the way he touches him so softly, and always speaks so softly to him, Dean almost starts to believe he is worth something. He has been told all of his life that he is not, by his father, by his brother, and by his boyfriend. After hearing it so much you start to believe it, then you start to see it.

Still Dean kind of hopes for Cas to win this fight, hopes that maybe he will be released from Alastair. He just needs to understand why cas is helping him. He hadn't even said I Love You back, so it can't be because he loves Dean. No one loves Dean, not really, they just make him think they do, and then they use him. He's usually used for sex, or his body in some way. It makes him feel like a piece of property, a useless, empty, piece of property. His heart sinks every time he is tricked into thinking that someone loves him, every time they push him into the mattress and sink deep inside. The way they force it, make it a punishment, it takes a piece from him. His body feels trashed, ugly, ruined, like anyone that ever looks at him can see the hands around his neck.

He keeps his face smashed into the pillow, letting the few tears soak it. He still feels as though he is little again, listening to his parents fight.

"Just give me what I came for." Al shouts back, a bang sounding from the living room.

"You talk about him like he's something you lost and came to claim back." Cas screams right back, emphasizing the word him.

Dean screams into the pillow once more, feeling some of the stress relieve, only to build right back up again. He slowly takes the pillow down from his face, taking in fresh air, and looking around the room cautiously. finding no one, Dean slides off the edge of the bed, placing one foot to the ground like something is hiding underneath. He thinks about this decision for a minute, should he go and face Al, or should he let Cas handle it. But what if he can't handle it, and Alastair hurts him? Dean places the other foot on the ground, the carpet soft but cold underneath. He takes a deep breath in, finally making up his mind, then lifts himself off of the bed completely. The soreness getting more intense with the weight, and his head still beating painfully.

Dean stands still for a moment, waiting for his head to clear, and the room to stop spinning. The walls finally coming to a stop, and his body feeling steady on his feet. He walks to the white painted door, stopping momentarily at a noise outside. Footsteps sounding softly just beyond the door, Dean thinks they are way to calm to be Al's. Dean jumps back when the door begins to open, and takes a whole four steps backwards, to put some space between him and who ever is coming in. Gabriel walks inside, his expression hard but concerned "Dean?" he says calmly, almost like Cas does.

Dean exhales, releaved that it's Gabriel and not Alastair. He stays put, watching as Gabe closes the door quietly, and takes a few steps toward him. He looks like he has just got home from work, his clothes are clean and ironed, and his hair is perfectly swooped back. "You ok?" Gabe tries again, looking at Dean like a dear in headlights. It takes a minute, but Dean slowly nods 'no'. Trying his hardest to swallow the lump that has been forming in his throat ever since Gabe walked in. Dean doesn't know why he is being truthful to Gabriel right now, he usually just puts on a fake smile and says 'i'm fine'. He is just not feeling up to lying when both people he loves are fighting in the next room.

Gabe takes another step towards him, and nods that he understands. "Cas will take care of it." Gabe confirms, trying to convince Dean, and himself. Dean doesn't believe it though, he doesn't think that anything good will ever happen to him. He can't stop the first tear from slipping out, and running down his face, he feels it drip off of his chin and fall to the floor. Gabe's expression changes at that moment, going softer, and his shoulders slumping.

"Get out of my way." Alastair's voice echoes through the room, making Dean tense up even more. It sounds like Al is further inside the house now, which makes Dean even more worried. He notices Gabe staring at the door from where he stand, a very serious look across his usually soft features. Dean ignores everything else around him, and walks forward. He opens the door, making the screaming even more real, and a lot louder than before. He walks into the kitchen as carefully and quietly as he could, making sure to stay unseen. He takes a deep breath in, trying to get the confidence to finally see what is happening. He's afraid that he will see Al again, and he will want to go home. He can't face him and tell him that he doesn't love him anymore, that he doesn't ever want to see him again. That would be a lie, he does still love Alastair, he still feels as though he needs him to be able to survive. It's not exactly easy to let go of someone that you are in love with, especially when they are everything to you. Alastair is all Dean knows in this reality, he is part of his life, the man who saved him, who takes care of him, who _loves him._

 

There is no saying goodbye, or letting go, not really. Not to the full extent that it doesn't effect him anymore, because it will. It will feel like his heart was ripped out and thrown away, break him even further, although it's almost impossible to break something that is already broken. Dean knows he is screwed up, but Alastair was the one to hold him together, and without Alastair Dean will fall. He just hopes Cas is there to catch him.

 

Dean pokes his head around the corner, blinking when the sunlight sprays onto his face. He sees Cas first, in his usual clothes, his shoulders are squared, he looks strong and confident. Alastair is standing closely to Cas, his eyes narrowed in a way Dean knows all to well, he can tell he is just about unleash hell onto Cas. Dean tenses, feeling the anger roll off in hot waves from the two. He feels like he is watching a boxing match, the way they are locked onto each other, and determined to win. Cas looks a lot more experienced with fighting, almost professional in the way he glares back, and moves so swiftly. Alastair on the other hand is more of a dirty fighter, he belongs on the streets with all of the others. Dean is torn on who scares him more, they both look equally terrifying. He is also worried that Cas will get hurt, and he will be taken back to Al. He can't even think of how bad his punishment would be. He bets that it will probably be worse than the last time, he thought nothing could be more horrible. He still remembers that night, clear as a bell. It was the night Dean was told about his dads death, he had over reacted and got himself into a whole mess of trouble.

...

John was unbelievably drunk one night, crashed into a semi truck by accident. And his entire truck was destroyed, the top roof caved in and smashed into John. When help arrived, John was dead. Dean got the call that afternoon, when he still worked at the garage with bobby. He remembers it as the call that made his world spin, and crack into pieces. Sure John hated Dean, thought he was useless, or that it was Dean's fault his mom died that night of the fire. But Dean loved John, he is family, his father, he raised him, and took care of him. Which is why this was one call that was so rare that he spiraled out of control. He went home that night, Alastair waiting for him, waiting to use him again. And this time he fought Al, he fought him hard. He had the phone dialing to 911, and Alastair bleeding in their bedroom. This was one of the very first few months Al took a liking to hitting Dean, dominating him. And this was one of the few times that Dean couldn't take it, and blew up, fought.

 

But by his luck, everything turned bad, and quickly. One minute Dean is holding the phone, and dialing the numbers nervously. Then the next, he is being dragged back to the bedroom. Kicking, and screaming, grabbing at anything near him, to stop from being taken back. He screams so much that his throat is raw, and his lungs burn from lack of oxygen. He is thrown down to the floor when he is fully inside the bedroom, Alastair moving quickly to lock the door. when he turns back around, Dean is on his feet, and trying to make up a plan for escape. He throws punches, trying anything and everything to get away from Al. Alastair smiles back in return, licking the blood off of his split lip. He moves towards Dean in two large angry strides.

 

He screams out again when his arm I taken to a extremely painful position behind his back. Immediately taking him to his knees, without any of his control involved. Alastair doesn't waste time, throwing his hardest punches towards Dean's chin and temples. His one eye fills with blood, his lip splits, and his cheek swells and purples. After five or more punches Al decides he can't ruin Dean's pretty face. He yanks his arm up, Dean feels the break, a loud pop in his forearm, and fire running into his right shoulder. He is completely limp for a moment, but still forced to his feet with his broken arm. He is immune to his screams now, letting them fall out freely, but not fully realizing they are even leaving his lips.

 

Alastair is glaring, and breathing heavily, pausing for a minute to decide what next. The still is missed when Al throws him face down onto the bed, the blankets still tangled from the fight earlier. He doesn't even get enough time to try and roll onto his back, Alastair is on top of him so fast that he gasps. His hands flail blindly in attempt to get away, before being pushed above his head. He kicks and screams again when he feels the cold handcuffs clip across his left wrist. Then screams again, and cringes violently when Al clips the other side onto his broken arm. He tugs on his arms hard enough for his feet to kick out behind him, then clipped to the bed. Now all he can do is wiggle back and forth underneath Al, and kick his legs. Alastair runs his hands from Dean's wrists, to his shoulders, and down his back. He moves down, so that he is sitting on top of Dean's legs. And pulls his jeans down, in one quick movement, scooting back across him so that he can remove them fully.

Dean Is still fighting, and screaming, hoping that he can somehow, by some miracle, get away. That's when arches his back, pushing his head into the pillow further, and tugging on his arms. Feeling the broken bone grind, and shoot more fire up his shoulder. Al takes this as an invite, and shoves three cold and wet fingers into Dean. He screams again, the fire now in his thighs and spine. His wrists are starting to bleed, the warmth running down his wrists and dripping onto their white sheets. He shoves in deeper, all the way to the knuckle, making Dean jump forward. Pushing his head into the headboard, and curling his toes in. He jerks again when they try to push deeper, pissing Al off by not taking it. He comes forward and leans over the top of Dean, then slowly wraps his long white fingers around Dean's neck. He squeezes so hard that all air is denied, his mouth working as hard as it can to drag something in, his chest heaving and burning from the failed attempts.

His mind is so overwhelmed that he actually tries to remove himself from the choke hold. Not even realizing that he is pushing hard back onto Al's fingers. He adds another finger, making blood run down his shaking legs. All Dean can think is BREATH! The words repeating themselves, screaming inside of his head. DEAN BREATH.

He fails at trying to take a couple breaths before he fully lies down and lets darkness take over. His wrists bleeding severely, his arm swollen, and his chest burning, most of all his entire back feels as though it is on fire.

When Dean wakes up, he is still naked, but not handcuffed. Although he isn't in the room anymore, he is in the basement. The doors are locked and the lights are cut off, leaving Dean hurt, naked, and alone.

Alastair teaches him his lesson by leaving him down there for two weeks, only feeding him twice.  And giving him water once a day, along with a beaten if he tries to plead and apologize.

By the time Al drags Dean's limp body out, he is sick and skinny. mumbling weak 'sorry's' and 'I love you's' to Alastair. Dean hasn't tried to contact help since, he hasn't even seen his fathers grave yet.

...

Dean jumps back into reality when he hears Cas shouting again. And before he knows it Cas is shoving Alastair out the door. Alastair is glaring and shouting back, until he catches Dean's eye. Making Dean cringe, and lower his head, in disgust with himself, and regretting ever getting mixed up with Cas. Alastair still looks pissed off, but he won't remove his eyes from Dean. "Dean." He yells after a moment, pushing back on Cas. Cas glances over his shoulder, his expression softening momentarily. And then going hard again when he returns to Al. Cas takes a punch from Alastair, one that sounds throughout the room. He looks a little surprised, but is quick on his feet. Cas takes one step back, getting into position, then throws a powerful punch right back at Al.

...

TBC


	14. war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finished.  
> this is my Christmas present to you!
> 
> Merry christmas

"There's a man trying to break into my house." 

Gabe says calmly into the phone, while sitting in his room. 

He is certain that this is the right thing to do. Mostly because he knows Castiel will not give up, and hand Dean over to Alastair, he's to stubborn. And he's not stupid enough to try and get in the middle of the fight. The cops will handle this better than he could ever, maybe even get rid of Alastair for good. He hates the sick bastard, ever since Cas brought Dean home and he got his first look at the man's work, all over Dean's body. Sitting there and having to listen to his pained cries, while he lay his head on your shoulder. It's the most depressing thing he has ever had to experience. The way Dean apologized repeatedly, saying I love you in such a broken tone. Gabe had to choke back tears, try and hold him without hurting him more. He wondered how Cas got into this mess, and why he even decided to help. But then again Cas has always been kind, a lot kinder than any of his other selfish brothers. 

He knows Cas wont give up until Alastair is gone completely, or until he is dead himself. His brother has always been about helping people, even if it's not convenient for himself. Gabe wouldn't mind helping Dean anyhow, he thinks it's cute how much Cas loves the man. And yes, he knows that Cas loves Dean, just by the way they stand to close, or stare for to long. You'd be blind if you couldn't see it too. He can tell that Dean loves Cas too, just a little more mixed feelings, like he is unable to decide. Other then Cas, he is more set and determined, he knows exactly what he wants, and why. 

"We are sending someone to take care of that now. Do you need any other kind of assistance?" The operator like voice asks, pulling Gabe out of his thoughts and back into reality. 

"No." he says simply, hanging up the phone.

...

Cas is practically blinded with rage as he takes another swing at Alastair. His blow is blocked, only connecting with Al's arm. Cas ducks just in time to dodge the next full blown punch. When he stands up fully Alastair clips him on the side of the head. He goes to return the punch, but is blocked once again. He stumbles back a couple steps, the room spinning around him. Before his mind can slow down again, Alastair walks forward and punches him. Cas decides to move on even though he is dizzy. He connects his fist to Alastair's stomach, making him double over. cas takes the weakness for his advantage, and grabs the sides of Al's head and knees him twice in the face. Alastair stands back up again, the blood gushing from his nose and onto his shirt. He smiles, the bastard smiles!? Cas snorts in disgust, as his anger boils over the edge. He walks up to al and punches him once more, making more blood splat onto the floor. Alastair wobbles slightly when he switches footing, then he throws another. Hitting his eye, the vision turning black immediately. Dean is in the room now, looking afraid, but ready to jump in at any moment. Cas is hit again, his eye still blury, and his lip split and bleeding. He stumbles and nearly falls to the ground, everything is spinning faster now. Cas doesn't have time to even make another move, because Alastair punches him again, and hard. Cas loses his footing completely, falling to the ground with a thud. He struggles to stand up, so that he isn't so vulnerable, and he can't. Alastair is quick to straddle him, and wrap his long fingers around Cas' throat. Cas imagines this is how Dean feels and has to go through when he is home. He remembers the marks left around Dean's throat, one of the first nights Cas had seen him with Alastair at the bar. His grip is so tight that no air is coming in, his chest is moving uselessly but nothing is coming in. Cas can hear Dean screaming at Al, telling him to stop, to get off. Alastair completely ignores Dean, set on his task. Cas' vision blurs around the edges, his hands prying at Alastair's arms. He must do this a lot, because all the tricks Cas tries, they don't work. Cas keeps eye contact with Alastair's cold dead eyes, glaring into them, and trying his best not to show weakness. Dean grabs Alastair's shoulders, and pulls as hard as he can, screaming for him to stop. Cas' eyes flutter, white dots starting to cover his vision. Alastair loosens slightly as Dean tugs on him, he removes one hand from Cas' neck, and grabs Dean by the shirt slamming him to the ground. Dean's head bounces when it hits the floor, knocking all air out of his chest. He lets go of Cas completely, his body falling limp to the ground. Dean struggles to get control again, practically crawling away from Al. Alastair grabs his ankle, dragging Dean back towards him. Dean is flipped over onto his back, Alastair taking a handful of his shirt and pulling him up. Dean wraps his hands around Al's wrists for support, tensing his body, and getting ready for the blows.

The first one is to his stomach, making him curl into himself. Second and third to his sides, making the pain inside feel worse. Fourth is finally to his face, his jaw cracking at the force of the blow. Fifth and Dean loses his sense, his head bobbing up and down for fight of consciousness. Alastair doesn't seem to be calming, or slowing in any way either. Dean does try to scoot away, he kicks his legs up underneath Al's spread legs, but the hand on his collar is too tight. His legs don't go high enough to connect. And his arms aren't long enough to hit back, only thing he can do is keep them braced on Al's wrists. Sixth is to his stomach again, making it lurch in pain, and feel as though he might puke. Dean looks behind Al, to see Cas completely unconscious on the floor. No hope. 

 

He loses count after twelve, most of the punches to the stomach. Because Alastair knows his weakness, and intends on beating Dean to death. One more punch to the stomach, then one to his ribs. Dean coughs blood, and it runs stickily down his rough chin. He can see Cas mumble and roll around a little, not fully awake, but hopefully coming to, and fast. Al punches him in the face a few more times, and then a couple to his sides and stomach. Dean feels his control slipping even more, his stomach is clenching out more blood, and his sides are burning. Not to mention one of his eyes is completely swollen shut, and his jaw is bruised and cut. 

 

Alastair grabs his chin, and stares into Dean's eye's. "What do you have to say for yourself?" He growls low into Dean's ear, running his hand through Dean's hair. He pulls his face back and looks back to him in disgust. He sobs when Al's touch becomes gentle and loving, his hand letting his shirt go, and moving to the back of his neck for support. The tears come fast after that "I'm sorry..." He chokes out. Pausing to catch his breath, then placing his hand on Alastair's face, reveling in the whiskers across his chin. He's missed Alastair, more than anyone will ever understand. "I love you." he whispers, letting out another cry. A cry because he's sorry, he is so very sorry, he should have never left Alastair in the first place. He shouldn't have even got involved with Cas, it was all a mistake. 

 

Alastair smiles, and nods, clearly annoyed still. While in the background Cas is moving around more, mumbling, and almost awake. Dean looks up to Al, hoping for forgiveness, and for him to take him home. Alastair leans down to Dean, pulling his chin up, and then connects his lips to Dean's. He isn't soft about the kiss, licking into his mouth, then biting his lip hard enough for it to bleed as he pulls away. He let's go of his chin, Al's face falls, and he glares at Dean, raising his fist. "It's too late." Alastair mumbles angrily.

"Freeze!" Comes a woman's voice. Alastair drops him to the floor, and then everything goes black. 

...

Dean tosses on the bed, wrinkling the sheets up around his legs. He is breathing heavy, freaking out at this point. He doesn't know how to survive without Al....He can't. Dean lets tears fall silently onto his pillow, as his throat tightens, feeling dry and heavy. He can't do this, he cannot be here without Al, his whole life will end. His world was already cracking, and now it is completely shattered to the ground. Alastair used to be the glue in which held him together, kept him in somewhat okay condition. He can't fight the feeling he get's to go and put the gun right back up to I head. He has NO ONE now, everyone has abandon Dean, left him to rot. He is so sorry that he didn't just stay with Al, instead of being so pathetic, and giving into those dazzling blue eyes. Sure Castiel might have saved him, but he knows it's just another trick, another person that wants to use him. He has never had good luck, never, he has never had someone that truly loves him either, except for Al. And now that he is gone, he has nothing. He can't place his hope on Cas loving him in return, he can't set himself up for more pain. Dean lets out a low sob, his ribs aching at the movement, he feels like he is going to be sick. His stomach feels upset, and his whole head hurts, even his heart feels like it is being ripped in half. Pounding his rib cage violently, the sound deafening in his ears. Dean grabs the pillow, and pulls it closer, trying to forget, to not feel. This is just to much for him too handle, for him to accept. 

Dean sobs, hard, finally letting everything out in hopes to feel a little bit better. He doesn't even care if anyone hears him anymore, he's weak, letting go. He doesn't even hear the door open, and Cas walk in. He lays on the bed, which is shaking with Dean's cries, his cries for help, for direction, for anybody, anybody at all, to come and save him. Cas grabs Dean, pulling him into his chest, while laying on his side. Dean wraps his arms around Cas, relishing in the comfort, and warmth. He cries into Cas' collar, grabbing the fabric in attempts to pull him closer. He needs to feel, needs Cas to touch him, to just be with him.

.  
.  
.  
TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodbye Alastair.  
> now time to heal Dean>>>


	15. Healing..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter was kind of short.....sorry.  
> but I hope you guys enjoyed it! Alastair is gone for good!  
> Now let's just hope Dean can cope without him. And Cas can comfort and heal him.
> 
>  
> 
> finished!

He presses his nose deeper into the crook of Cas' neck, letting his warm breath run over the top of soft skin. His ribs ache from the full bodied crying, and the lump in his throat doesn't seem to leave. He has his hands in between their chests, grabbing handfuls of Cas' shirt. Cas has his arms wrapped protectively around Dean's waist, one hand rubbing circles into his tensed and shaking back. Dean feels as though he can't be close enough, like he needs more, he needs to be touched. He feels as though his chest won't move fast enough, won't drag enough air in for the sobbing. He also feels Cas' warm breath across his ear, singing in a low voice, the song barely heard over Dean's crying. Dean presses his body closer to Cas', their hips colliding together. He can't get Alastair's last words out of his mind, or the way he looked at Dean, like he was disgusted. The words 'It's too late.' running over and over inside his head, getting worse and worse with every repeat. 

The broken cry that comes out after that, is everything he has, making all air fall out of his chest. He struggles to breath back in, making a inward sob form. His chest is tight, his throat burns, and a lump that seems to never leave sticks there in the middle of it all. And no matter how much he tries to breath, or swallow, he can't. His body and mind are so overwhelmed that all he can do is let it all out, and hug Cas tighter. He truly thought that Sammy leaving was the worst heartache he has ever experienced, but this has proven that wrong. This was so much worse, this was real, permanent. Alastair was a part of him, a huge part, the part that kept him from taking his own life away. And now that he was gone too, he can't fight the feeling he gets. to raise the gun to his mouth once more. If it wasn't for Cas he thinks he would have already.

He tugs on Cas' shirt more, huddling as close as he can. 'touch me.' is the only thing he can think, the words screaming themselves through his body. Like he's being possessed, controlled to need these things, like a drug. Dean grips Cas' shirt tighter, holding back the urge, he presses his nose harder into his collar. It's madness, possessive, and needy, the way he needs like an addict. He has never gone this long without being touched before, or used, it's driving him crazy. The words of the song get louder, breath ghosting over his ear, and making his body shiver.

"Here's to you, when the rain hits to hard. when the battles that you fight just leave you scarred." cas sings softly, rubbing small circles into his back, and holding him as tightly as possible. He let's more tears fall onto Cas' shirt, already damp, and clinging to his perfect white skin. Dean closes his eyes shut as tightly as possible, flashbacks of his old Alastair running through his mind.

...

"Dean." comes a cheery voice from the hallway, the front door shutting a moment later. "Come here." he says happily, as he makes his way up the stairs. dean sits straight up in the bed as he hears Al's voice calling up the stairs. He immediately smiles, and jumps off the bed, running over to the door, to hear his foot steps coming down the hallway. Alastair was gone on business for a whole month, said that he wouldn't be able to come home for a few days. He can't hold back his excitement when he opens the door, and spots Alastair. He is smiling, wearing his black suit, and holding flowers.

Dean runs towards Al, and jumps into his arms, his legs wrapped around his waist, and his arms around the back of his neck. Making the red flowers drop to the hardwood flooring with a small thud. Alastair holds his waist, and pulls his head forward for a kiss. Dean can't help but put everything he has into the kiss, his lips connecting with Al's sweet one's. His whole body lights up when Al touches him, almost like little spikes of lightening running through your body. Dean pulls back momentarily "I missed you." he whispers. Al smiles in reply, and pushes his lips against Dean's once more.

He pulls Al's head forward roughly, opening his mouth for his tongue to come inside. Dean feels the lightning get more intense, and grinds up against Al's hips. Feeling that Alastair is fully interested, he let's out a small moan. Letting it vibrate up his throat and onto Al's lips.

...

Dean remembers this day, one of the first day's him and Alastair had lived together. One of the first times they had sex, and not the way Alastair liked. It was sweet, and slow, Al would touch him lovingly. There was no hate, or poison in their relationship, just love.

Dean pushes his face further into Cas' shoulder, more hot tears rolling down his face and onto the pillow. He keeps his eyes closed just as another memory comes rolling in. 

...

Alastair and Dean sit on the porch after work. His head leaning on Al's shoulder while they talk, staring at the stars above their house. Al's hand is wrapped around his, his thumb tracing up and down his fingers. They've been out here for hours, just talking. Talking about their future together, trying to imagine what their lives will be like when they are older. Dean knows he is falling for this man, and hard. He is the only good thing in his life right now. The only good thing he has ever had if he thinks about it.

"Think we'll still live here?" Dean whispers, lifting his head, and looking to Al. He looks down to Dean and smiles "Forever." Al whispers back. Making Dean's heart warm, and his stomach flutter. His eyes flicker to Dean's lips, then back up to his eyes again. Dean smirks, then leans forward and connects his lips with Al's. His warm breath ghosting over Dean's lips, and his mouth warm and wet. He places his hand on Al's cheek, feeling the whiskers starting to poke through. Al pulls back slightly, and stares into Dean's eyes, his greyish blue eyes locked onto Dean's green ones. "I love you." Alastair whispers, running a hand through Dean's hair.

"I love you too." Dean says.

...

He chokes on the memory, all air leaving his chest for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His heart pounding hard against his broken ribs, feeling like it's ripping in half. He opens his eyes as quickly as he can, everything blurry with tears, and spinning with fear and hurt. The essence of the memory fading, but not fully. He sucks in as much air as possible, when he feels his body spasm with another heart wrenching cry. Letting it out a second later, feeling everything he has leave with it. Cas stops rubbing his back, and holds him tighter, his protective hands pressing against Dean's shaking muscles.

Cas begins to sing a different song "If there was a chance that we could be lovers. i'd write you a book of handwritten letters, and burn them all up to the end, just to start over again." he sings as softly as he can manage, into his ear. As Dean tries to suck in air through his burning throat and chest, only succeeding in another full blown cry. Alastair was his everything, it feels as though he died, because he was never coming back. Dean was never going to see him again, and if he did Al wouldn't love him anymore. Not after he betrayed him so badly. He would never be able to look at Dean the same, not ever. And Dean knows how much more that would destroy him.

All of these memories racing back are torture, punishment. They are all slowly killing him, ripping his heart out, or what's left of it. He hasn't ever told anyone he loves them, not the same way he told Alastair, and when he did he get's no reply. Because no one else cares for him in the same way, not really, they just say they do so he will crawl into their bed with them. It's happened so many times before, so why wouldn't Cas be the same? after all he is pathetic enough to believe it, he believes it every single time. He just craves to be loved, to be wanted the same way everyone else does. Seems like everyone around him is happy, they have a family, a lover, people who care and people who would do anything for them. Dean has never had that, he was always been the one giving. 

Dean sucks more air in, trying desperately to fill his lungs. He tugs and digs his nails into Cas' shoulders, and Cas just holds him tighter. He pushes his hips harder against his, needing more, screaming for more. Cas stays put, when Dean grinds his hips again. Needy. Pathetic. Whore.

His chest is heaving when he lifts his head. and stares at Cas. He looks calm, maybe slightly terrified, as he searches Dean's eyes with sympathy. Dean's emotions are all over the place, he can't decide between crushed and sad, or horny and needy. They both are clashing together dangerously, making him feel crazy, or like his chest won't move. Almost like someone is sitting on his ribs, and refusing to move.

Dean can feel cas' breath across his lips now, hot and tempting. He licks his lips hungrily, trying to hold himself back from the powerful urge. The tears slowing as he get's distracted by his sudden lust. His chest quickens, and his heart beat skips. Dean runs a hand through cas' hair, smelling the green apple shampoo fill the air. He sees Cas furrow his brow, and continue to stare. Dean let's the urge take him over the edge. He stills his hand in Cas' hair, then grabs a handful of it. Cas immediately stops singing, and whines low in his throat, still keeping his eyes locked on Dean's. He pulls Cas forward by his hair, and pushes his lips forward and onto Cas' soft one's. Finally letting the need take over completely, and pushing his tongue into Cas' mouth roughly. Cas stays still, letting Dean kiss him, his hands still pressed against his back.

Dean grinds his hips again, taking more interest now. It's driving him crazy that Cas isn't touching him in return. He wan-......no wait.....he Needs to be touched. He grabs Cas' hand from his back, and pushes it lower. Cas pulls back like he's been shocked, removing his hand from Dean completely. "What are you doing?" Cas whispers, with a confused look. Dean sighs with frustration, and lets his hands rest by his sides. "Please." He replies, his heart beating in his ears, and another lump forming in his throat. Cas' expression softens, he lifts a hand, and softly touches Dean's face. Dean puts his hand over the top of Cas', closing his eyes. He feels lips covering his own once again, but this time gentle and warm.

Making Dean's chest relax, and the weight lift off of him. He sighs again, the crying from earlier finally taking effect, exhaustion hitting him like a bus. Cas pulls back after a moment, then pulls Dean closer. He wraps his arms around him once more, and returns to singing softly. Dean struggles to keep his eyes open, as his body insists on sleeping. He let's them droop closed after a moment. It's okay, Dean tries to convince himself as the darkness begins to take over, it's okay. Cas' singing lulling him to sleep, the words fading away the more he slips. Dean mumbles, and then is taken completely, into a deep sleep. Alastair racing into his dreams, a moment later.

.

.

.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it was short....again. But I hope you guys liked it.


	16. healing...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finished❤

Cas is releaved when Dean finally calms down, and falls asleep. tonight has been enough drama, and he can't even imagine what Dean is feeling. But he was a bit surprised when he kissed Cas earlier. He wasn't quite sure how to react to the sudden change of emotion. That's mostly why he held still, and let Dean take over, until of course Dean tried forcing Cas onto him. Cas doesn't understand why Dean did that, or why he was all of the sudden feeling that way. He has an idea that it might be because Dean is trying to prove himself worthy of Cas. Like if he doesn't give up his body to him, Cas won't want him anymore. Of course that's not true, but it's sad that Dean thinks that way, or maybe it's the only thing he has ever been taught. Cas isn't here to use him, he is here to love and protect him. That might take a little more time to teach Dean that, that he doesn't have to give himself over in order to be loved. 

Cas sighs, running his hand over Deans' steady moving back once more. Then he carefully removes himself from Dean's arms, and slips out of bed. The cold air making his tear soaked t shirt stick to his chest. He stands by the bed for a moment, looking down to Dean. He looks peaceful, despite the bruises and tear tracks, but he looks like he can finally breath, finally relax. It feels good to finally win a fight, to finally rid Dean of Alastair. Sure the fights aren't completely over, not yet, because now he has to help Dean. He has to put the pieces back were they belong. Cas reaches down, and runs his fingers though Dean's hair. Watching as his eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, and his body twitches at the touch. 

Cas can't help but adore this beautiful creation that lie in front of him. This man has become a huge part of his life, it's astonishing at how quickly he fell for Dean. And much of his time is spent thinking about him, and fighting for him, He couldn't go back to his old life, even if he tried. 

He smiles down at Dean, then pulls the blanket up further on Dean's shaking body. He moans pleasantly, and snuggles his head into the pillow. Cas smiles, then walks over to his closet, slipping a new shirt, and some pajama pants on. He then quietly opens the door, and makes his way into the kitchen. Walking through the dark hallway, he sees the living room light already turned on. Cas tilts his head, and squints his eyes, who was here? 

Cas walks cautiously towards the light, hearing whispering as he gets closer. One voice is Gabriel's, but the other one he doesn't recognize. They are talking quietly enough that he can't hear them when he approaches the doorway to the living room. Cas inches closer, only succeeding in hearing more hushed tones. Finally he decides that he needs to see what is happening, mostly because Gabe wasn't even supposed to be home tonight. He said he would spend the night over at his friends house, maybe he changed his mind? 

Cas peers around the corner, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjust to the light. Gabriel is sitting on the couch, with his feet on top of the coffee table. Next to him is a man Cas has never seen before. He has long brown hair that flips out on the ends, Cas thinks he's also very handsome. He still can't hear what they are whispering, so he steps into the room completely, and clears his throat. Gabe flips around to look at him, his face very serious, and his eyes hard. The man next to Gabe flips around as well, looking Cas up and down curiously. 

"Hey Cas. What are you doing up?" Gabe asks, keeping his eyes locked on Castiel, and his expression stern. "couldn't sleep." he says, completely distracted by the stranger in his living room. Gabe nods, and turns to the brown haired man again. The man pulls his eyes away from Cas for a moment, then stands up. Cas has to hold back his gasp when the giant stands, he has to be at least 6'4 or taller. He walks up to Cas and smiles, he smiles sweetly, kind of reminding Cas of a giant teddy bear or something. His teeth are perfect, and white, his cheeks dimple in as he smiles. Cas half smiles in reply, taking the mans extended hand. Gabe comes up behind the large man and says "Castiel this is Sam. Sam this is Castiel. We call him Cas for short."

"Hello." cas says in his monotone voice, letting his hand fall to his side once more. "Hi." Sam replies, still smiling. He towers over Cas like a freakin building, and he makes Gabriel look about as tall as a five year old. Gabe grabs onto cas' arm, pulling him into the kitchen, just as Sam sits down on he couch again. He turns the light on, then takes Cas over to the other side of the room. He looks around, then focuses on Cas, with a serous look still stuck across his features. "What's going on?" Cas asks, taken back by how Gabriel is acting. 

"Where's Dean?" Gabe asks a moment later, looking behind him once more. Cas tilts his head, then looks down the hallway, to where he left Dean in his bed. Why is he asking this?

"He's asleep." Cas answers "Why?" he follows, getting a little overprotective for Dean. 

"Cas, that's his brother out there." He answers, lifting his eyebrows, and placing a hand on Cas' shoulder.

Cas can't believe his ears, brother? His brother! He didn't even know he had a brother, didn't even think he had any family left. That's probably why Sam looks so much like Dean, would also explain how tall he is too. Cas knows it must be hard for dean to talk about things, but he never though this would be kept from him. Maybe it's because his brother and him don't get along? That would kind of explain why he didn't tell cas about him. 

Sam is handsome, has a lot of the features dean does, except he looks softer, almost sweeter than dean. You can tell that they both came from a pretty hard family, but which one got the worst end of the deal. Sam spoke a lot different from dean too, he spoke softer, and with more vocabulary. 

He hopes dean is excited to see him, after all these years without him. He wonders if sam knows about alastair? That could be another reason he didn't come around. Maybe he didn't know his brother was in this much trouble. Dean's the kind of guy to tell you he is fine, when clearly he isn't. 

Cas pokes his head around gabriel, catching another glimpse of the absent brother. He's still sitting on the couch, he has his phone out texting. Gabriel makes his way back into the living room, plopping down next to sam. "You can stay the night if you would like." Gabe says softly, flipping the tv on. Cas walks into the room, and sits on the recliner next to the couch. Then looks over to sam, studying his features. He does look a lot like Dean...

Soon cas adds "you don't have to stay. Dean isn't awake any way. You can always come back in the morning and see him." Cas says in his normal voice, feeling a spike of protection hit him in the stomach. He doesn't realize he is squinting his eyes into a glare, until gabe gives him a pointed look. Sam looks over just as he rids the look from his face, and replaces it with a small smile. "Your always welcome here." Cas adds.

"I have a hotel booked already. But thank you guys for the offer. And if it's okay? I would like to come back tomorrow and see my brother." Sam says sweetly, standing with his coat clutched in his long arms. Cas nods that he understands, then stands too. He walks sam over to the door, then opens it for him. He smiles, waves goodbye, and then the door is shut again and locked behind him. 

Cas turns to gabriel with wide eyes, his back pressed against the cold metal frame. Gabe just shrugs and returns to watching tv. 

He rolls his eyes, then goes back to what he was doing earlier. Walking Into The Kitchen Cas Grabs a Glass From The Cupboard. He opens the fridge, and stares at the different choices. Deciding on water cas turns around and runs the faucet, until it begins to cool. At the last second he turns the water off, his glass still empty, and pulls out some jack Daniels from the cupboard.

.  
.  
.>>> "the people you don't even notice often knows your worth. and some people you care about the most make you feel trashed and stupid."


	17. reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry I took so long for me to update, I've been busy lately. 
> 
> Finished

Castiel was not excited for Sam to come over today. Sure Sam was a good guy, Cas could sense it. But then he can't take the risk of someone hurting his Dean again. Plus what if Dean doesn't even want to see his brother? For all Cas knows they don't get along, and that's why he has never heard of this Sam before. He was actually thinking of telling Sam that he can't see Dean, and just forget this whole mess. He cannot imagine if his brother finds out all the things that were done to Dean while he was off, to wherever he was that was more important than his own brother. Sadly, he can't do that, it's not his choice who Dean sees, or who wants to see him. He just hopes Sam understands what his bother went through, and is some kind of help with this big mess.

"Cas, can you please help me clean up before Our guest arrives." Gabe says half angry, half sarcastically. He is moving about the house noisily, cleaning and scrubbing every inch of the place. While Cas sits at their brown kitchen table, thinking everything through. By the way Gabriel is smashing things around, and singing loudly, he's surprised that Dean hasn't woken to the racket. He hadn't even woken up when Gabe knocked over a heavy, very ugly vase onto the hardwood floor. The shattering of it so loud, that it made the neighbors bang on the wall. 

Cas has checked on Dean every hour, hoping that he is okay. He understood that the last few days have been difficult, hell for all he knows, the last few years could have been difficult for Dean. He knows he needs to rest, but at the same time he doesn't want Dean to be totally in shock when he wakes up with sam here. So he hopes that he wakes before Sam is supposed to arrive. And if he doesn't wake soon, Cas just might wake him up out of fear. 

"I'm bringing sexy back!" Gabe sings, off tune, and dancing around the kitchen, while he clangs the dishes together, like an overgrown child. Castiel rolls his eyes, and pinches his nose, wishing he was the one sleeping so he didn't have to hear Gabe's awful singing. He stands Quickly, rubbing a hand over his face before walking to his room once again. He cracks the door open, to make sure he isn't intruding, seeing nothing, same as before. Cas opens the door fully, and steps inside, closing it behind him with a quiet click. Dean is still lying in bed, his back facing Cas, and the door. He looks to be asleep still, so Cas moves towards the bed, and touches his shoulder lightly. 

Dean flinches from the touch, his body shaking from knowing that someone is in the room with him. Cas moves around the other side of the bed, so that he can fully see Dean on the edge, his arm hanging over the side. Cas can see now that Dean is awake, barely, his eyes seem droopy when they meet Cas'. They are still puffy from crying last night, probably hurt too, but the color green stands against all of this making it all seem okay...

Cas moves forward, giving Dean a small smile, not making another move to touch him, not yet. "I guess Gabriel's racket did wake you then?" he says calmly, with a hint of sarcasm in his deep voice. Dean gives a huff of a laugh, his eyes closing for a long moment, and then opening again to meet Cas' eyes. Dean's eyes say a million things, some hard to read, and others not so much. Cas sees Dean go soft, for once every one of his muscles are relaxed, and his mouth is tuned into a small smile. This just melts Cas' heart, he imagines this how Dean used to be, before all of those bad events. 

Dean doesn't lose eye contact, and neither does Cas, they both just stare at each other in wonderment. The silence filling the room comfortable, and warm, Castiel wrapping himself within it's welcoming arms. He isn't sure how he can have so much chemistry with this man, he doesn't even know why he fell in love so quickly. But the way they fit together is just, it's amazing. 

Dean is the one to break the eye contact, when he hears another crash coming from the kitchen. The sound of pans clattering to the floor tighten Dean's muscles, and make his expression turn into fear. Cas just yell for Gabe to keep it down, then moves closer to Dean. Placing a soft hand on his face Cas smiles, to assure everything Is okay. "How bout we get you some breakfast?'" He says as he runs his fingers through Dean's soft hair. He leans in and gives Dean a brief kiss on the lips, then turns to leave. "Get ready." Cas says before he shuts the door behind him.

He feels so much better, now that dean is finally awake, and happy no less. Cas smiles at the thought, if Dean is happy Then Cas is happy.

...

Time goes fast, and before he knows it, there is a knock on the door. Cas still hasn't told Dean about their little surprise guest, he didn't have any words to explain. He just hopes that Dean understands, and is happy to see his brother. Gabriel is cooking when the knock sounds, and Dean is in Cas' room, Cas on the other hand is sitting nervously in the living room. Dean has taken a liking to Cas' room, been in there all day, going through his things, and wearing his clothes. Only because Dean doesn't have any of his own things, not yet. They haven't went to clean out his and Alastair's house yet. And to be honest he is not looking forward to that day, it's going hit Dean like a ton of bricks.

Dean also stays in Cas' room, because he says he feels safe. Which also makes Cas love him more, if that were possible. another knock sounds, more insistent now. Cas is pulled from his pleasant thoughts, and he stands, taking a deep breath. 'here we go.' Cas thinks.

He unlocks the door, which is always locked, for Dean's sake, He doesn't need another surprise visitor. The door clicks open, and the cold air seeps through the cracks, making him shiver unpleasantly. Sam is standing there, shifting from foot to foot, wearing a brown flannel and a green coat over the top. He smiles at Castiel, the man's blue eyes are kind of creepy, really... The guy stares like he has seen a ghost or something, Sam thinks that he isn't that much of a surprise. Surely Dean doesn't know he's here though, probably why this Cas guy is so.....so what? 

overprotective, that's it. Escpecaily when he mentions Dean in any way, he looks like he wants to lunge at Sam and tear his throat out. He swallows, and musters a genuine smile, his nerves still overwhelmed from the piercing blue eyes. "come in." the man says in his low growl like voice, opening the door further to beckon him inside. Sam immediately scans the room, there's a small green three cushion couch pointing towards the flat screen that hang against the far left wall. Then there is a matching green chair beside it, slightly angled from the tv. Then there's the bookcase that covers both sides of the black flat screen, one side filled with movies, in alphabetical order. Then the other side is littered with books, all kinds of books from what he can see, a lot of religious books, some really old, and some fairly new. There is a small bench to the right of the front door, shoes placed directly underneath. Then there is the hooks above, holding a trench coat, an tan jacket, and then Dean's leather jacket... 

Straight ahead is the kitchen doorway, you would have to walk along the back of the couch to reach it. But once he does, it opens into a nice sized kitchen, greyish light blue paint, and dark wood cupboards with a matching table and chairs. There is a small island in the middle, where Gabriel is chopping onions, the whole room smelling so great that his mouth waters. He looks around some more, not daring to go any further, still no Dean. Does he even know Sam is here?

"Sam!" Gabriel exclaims, wiping his face against his shoulder with a huge smile. "I'm so glad you made it." He says cheerily, earning a glare from Cas, and a chuckle from Sam.

"yeah." Sam agrees, not really sure what to say, or do. He is just here to see Dean, and they are making it like a family get together or something. When really all he wants to do is take Dean away from here. He doesn't know why, but about a month ago he had the sudden urge that he Needed to find Dean. One of those feelings that don't go away, the kind that eat at you, a very, very bad feeling. And now that he is here, he can't fight off the feeling, he is sure these people are great people, but, the feeling still lingures, and it's strong too. 

Sam rubs the back of his neck, looking down to the black and white tiling, with a sigh escaping his lips. "Where's Dean?" He finally asks, earning looks from both of the men. A smile from Gabriel, and death glare from Cas. His shoulders actually visibly tense, his chest puffing out in strength, and anger. Sam tries to act normal, while the question hangs thick and heavy in the delicious smelling room. Gabe answers.

"In Cas' room. I think he is starting to live in there." He laughs, wiping the knife on his apron. Castiel glares at Gabriel now, his hands balled into fists, and Sam swears he hears Cas growl...

 

Sam waits a few more moments for a invitation to go and see his brother, and get's no response. He steps forward, the smells getting better with every whiff. "Can I see him?" He asks, confused as to why they aren't letting him see his own brother. He is practically shaking with all his excitement, and the knot in his stomach tightens with an anxious feeling. "Yes, of course." Gabriel answers, at the same time as Cas' low growl "NO." Sam shifts, feeling the heat of the kitchen to be to much.

.  
.  
>>> "Sometimes even though your having a good time, you can't help but stop and think about how much you miss the old times."


	18. brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> should I keep going? ;) 
> 
> thanks for all the love given!  
> ~xoxo
> 
> FINISHED. sorry its short...

Dean opens the white closet door in Cas' bedroom, revealing clothes, and shoes inside. He has been in here all day, looking through Cas' things. Mostly because he isn't ready to face anyone but Cas right now, his nerves are still totally shot from yesterday. Jesus, it was only yesterday that Alastair was taken, Dean should not be expected to socialize. That's why he likes Cas so much, he is so patient, and kind. He also has a lot of interesting things in his room, Dean has almost searched through everything he owns. And frankly the dude is strange, in a cute way, he owns nothing dirty, like at all, how does he survive? 

Dean would expect to find condoms, or even a dirty magazine, instead he finds books, and sweaters. He is so used to sex being a part of his life, that it is almost uncomfortable not having anything around that is even a little dirty. He still enjoys searching through his things though, and wearing his shirts, they smell like him...Dean has been kind of lonely all day, he just didn't want to bother Cas with being so needy, he has learned that lesson already. So he stays all alone in here all day.

He tenses when the bedroom door is opened, his hands falling to his sides quickly, and his gaze falling to the floor. He stares at his socks, and the cream colored carpet beneath, feeling eyes burning holes into his back. "Dean?" comes the gravelly voice from behind him, closer now. Dean immediately falls to his knees, his ribs shooting pain up both sides, and stares to the floor. He flinches as a hand clasps his shoulder, but holds the urge to move away from the touch. "Dean?" comes the voice again, more concerned now. 

He feels air swish, and then he is staring down on black dress shoes, then black pants. He stays completely still, keeping his eyes on the floor. A hand grasps his chin, but not the usual hand, a soft one, and raises his face up gently. Cas' blue eyes stare into his with fear, his hand falling from Dean's chin and back to the floor. 

~~~

Sam can't believe his eyes when he sees his brother fall to his knees, and lower his head. What in the hell has Cas done to him? he think, as anger boils under his skin. "Dean, honey, get up. He's not here, it's just me, okay?" Cas says, and the anger slowly fades out as he tries to put the pieces together. It can't be Cas that did this, but if it wasn't Cas then who? Sam scrunches his face in confusion. Dean's shoulders slump, and he let's out a happy sob, that makes his back jerk, and his hands fly around Cas' neck, Cas immediately hugging back with hushed words.

Sam takes a cautious step forward, finally entering the room completely. Those blue eyes flicker up to him with a squint. He takes another step forward, motioning for cas to leave. To his surprise castiel stands, glares once more, then leaves. Dean still on the floor, following cas' movements with confusion. That is until his eyes travel up sams legs, up his chest, and then finding his eyes. 

He smiles at dean, feeling the anxious feeling in his gut get more intense. Dean just stares back, with a shocked face, then stands. Clearly trying to find words to come to his lips. And when none do sam speaks up "Hey, Dean." 

"Sam." He replies, taking two steps forward, now fully out of the closet. Sam chuckles at the thought. 

"It's been a while. How have you been?" He speaks again, finally taking notice of all the bruises and cuts littering his brothers face. He furrows brows, not even taking notice that he takes the next few steps forward, finally reaching dean. He raises a hand and reaches for Deans face, but us swatted away with an angry hand. "I'm Fine." 

Yeah, fine, that's why he looks like he went two rounds with a bear. Dean's always been the one to say that he's fine, just so people won't take pity on him.

"What happened?" Sam says sternly, gesturing to the purple bruises. Dean shrugs, his gaze refusing to meet Sam's. 

So first of all Sam has no idea what happened to his brother while he was off at school. He didn't even know where Dean was after he heard John had passed. He left way before that, he left as soon as he could. He also knows that when Dean says things are fine, it's usually the exact opposite. and to add on to that whole mess, Dean and Sam haven't talked for two years, possibly more. Which also means he has no idea what Dean has been doing for a whole two years. Plus Dean would never reach out to him for help, he's betrayed that Sam left him all those years ago. 

Shit, they didn't even talk when there father passed, he imagines that it was really hard on Dean. Mostly because he would throw himself off of a cliff for the bastard, and Sam wants nothing to do with their father. It really didn't effect him one bit, sure he went to the funeral, but only to be respectful. He was kind of surprised that he didn't see Dean at the funeral, it was extremely strange. And then again he didn't think anything of it then, not one bit. 

And now? now sam is concerned, Dean looks lucky to be alive, by the way the bruises look, and to add to it Dean's knuckles are clean, no scrapes, or bruising. That can only mean one thing, Dean sat there while he was beaten, like he used to do with John...But John's gone, so who in the hell would have done this to his brother? 

Sam gapes at Dean, his mind going so fast he can barely be present in the real world. He gasps when the thought catches him, Castiel. It's the only explanation, how protective he is over Dean. Or how he didn't want sam to see him, probably because of the bruises. His anger rises at the thoughts, why was he so stupid? to not see this before. 

Dean takes a step forward, obviously concerned with the way Sam is tensing. He pulls himself out of his thoughts, and tries to rid the glare from his face. "Dean." he says stiffly, his words rolling in anger. "What happened? who did this to you?"

His face goes pale, and he reaches out to steady himself, Sam guiding him to the large bed. The covers are messed up, and the pillows are thrown across them, a laptop sitting atop of the blue blankets. Sam sits beside Dean on the comfortable bed, waiting for a response, anything? he shifts uncomfortably, letting his hands rest on his thighs, his fingers tapping a beat against his worn jeans. Dean stays quiet, staring down at the floor, and swallowing hard. 

When he finally raises his green eyes to him, they are serious, and very hard. "Alastair, happened to me." he says angrily, clenching his jaw up tight.   
.  
.  
.

the most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained.


	19. brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey, I've been really busy the last few days. but I promise to try and post a couple more chapters. so I was working on this before work, and I wont be able to finish until i get home tonight. so here is what have doen so far!  
> And thank you guys for all your support, I honestly didn't think people would like my writing...
> 
> any way enjoy":)
> 
> FINISHED:) didn't have tons of time to add more, but this is the most I could get:) sorry it's short, again.

Sam's mind is going so fast he can barely keep up with Dean's talking, Alastair? Beard? Cas? And he didn't know the entire time!? He had been in a completely different state, oblivious to the horrible things that was happening. Dean hadn't even tried to contact him. Sam slinks further into the bed, he hadn't contacted him because he told him to never talk to him again, not after he left. Sam's stomach rolls, he knows Dean would obey just to keep him happy. He was stupid, he was stupid to think that Dean was okay, especially after John dying. He knew something might be wrong when Dean didn't show up to the funeral, then again he was to caught up in his own mess to worry about it. Dean had always been strong, he thought for sure if he was in any kind of trouble that he could take care of it himself. 

Sam was once again proven wrong, by the way Dean is telling him all the awful things that happened, he was extremely wrong. He had thought Alastair was a good guy, well the one and only time he met the guy. How could he have misread this situation so horribly? And to think that this was Castiel's fault? The man who freakin saved Dean!? He regrets being such an asshole to the man, he was only to do what was best for Dean. Sam makes a mental note to apologize to Cas, after this. 

They sit in silence in the dimly lit room, the sun had started to go down, and the light was splashing across the grey colored walls, and the blue blankets spread across the bed. Dean was fiddling with his hands in his lap, the way he always does when he gets nervous. Sam was still unsure what to do, or even say, at this point all he wanted was the whole mess to evaporate into thin air. Just so he was able to breath, just so Dean was able to breath. The room felt like it was filling with hot thick air, his lungs unable to drag enough in, and his back already dripping with sweat. 

Why? Who? What….even?

What in the holy fucking hell. 

Sam takes a deep breath in, and then lets it back out again. He looks over to Dean, his green eyes glazed with un spilt tears, and his mouth held into a pout. He can’t even begin to understand how Dean is feeling. "Where's Alastair now?" Sam finally asks, the curiosity eating him up all over. If he can get to the bastard, he won't live long enough for him to blink once more. Dean lucks up to sam, and rubs a hand over his face. "Jail I would guess." He replies, Sam is kind of surprised at how steady his voice is, and how much control he has, even when he looks as though he is about to break down. 

He can't help the frustrated sigh that comes out, he really was hoping 'Dead' as Dean's answer. Even though jail was better then out here where he can get to his brother. But that doesn't mean he is gone for good, no, he could be released at any time. And if he is ever let out, he expects Castiel, or even him, to go kill the bastard. No questions asked.

Sam nods, and then stands, rubbing his hands through his hair. Dean stands as well, and that's when he notices it…

The once bright and cheerful eyes, are now sunken and grey, like there is nothing left behind them. His hands are now long and skinny, his fingers almost pure bone and skin. And his once buff and well toned body, now is skinny, almost unhealthy looking, but not quite. Sam notices a change in Dean's skin color as well, he remembers his brother a bronze color, and now? now he is pale, sickly pale. 

Sam could barely see these things at first, and now the more he looks, the more he finds has changed. And they haven't changed for the good, Dean really looks horrible. Sam remembers his brother as one of the strongest people he knows, the person he has looked up to ever since he was tiny. Dean was strong.....wait? he is strong. He is the most brave, the most indestructible, hard headed, controlling, bastard. Yet Sam can't see his brother this way, he's so broken, ripped apart by the wolves. How does this happen? especially to Dean? Sam has so many questions that can't be answered that it is almost maddening. Driving him up the wall, making his blood run so hot that it feels like he can burst at any moment. 

The anger he feels towards the men that took control of Dean, the men that were supposed to be there the most, make him want to scream. His own father, and his first boyfriend. There was no right or wrong in there heads though, all that they see is 'make Dean behave', 'make him yours'. Like he wasn't even a person at all, like he was property, or a scolded dog. Sam wouldn't mind killing them both at this moment, he wouldn't even blink.

"everything okay in here?" Comes that gravely voice from behind him, Castiel. Sam jumps out of his thoughts, and turns around to be faced by the same scowl from earlier. "everything is fine." comes the reply of his brother, how in the hell does he play this off? like this is fucking normal! Cas' face softens as he looks over to Dean, his eyes becoming brighter almost, and his body visibly relaxing at the sight of Dean. He stares for a moment longer before walking towards Sam's brother, placing a hand onto Dean's once bulky, now skinny shoulder. He leans forward, whispering something that makes Dean's mouth quirk up at the sides, and Sam feel incredibly uncomfortable. 

He clears his throat, and shifts his gaze to the door way, to see if Gabriel might have come too. Finding no one, Sam makes a terrible excuse, and leaves the room to join Gabe. He knows what Cas said was something only for his brother, which makes him want to erase his mind, like he has seen something that he never wished to see. Then again he couldn't help but feel warm inside, Dean had taken to this stranger with the blue eyes so quickly, he has become so comfortable around Cas. It reminds him of Jessica...Which reminds him, he needs to call her, she is probably freaking out by now.  
...

.  
.  
. >>> " You promised not to let me drown."


	20. nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, I hope you guys enjoy! this one is a lot longer than the rest of my others:)
> 
> ADDED ON! :)

*month 3*  
…

'there are hands all over him, running down his chest, up his thighs, repeating themselves over and over again. Those dreaded white hands raking every inch of his skin, the long bony fingers curling slowly over his wrists. With a vise like grip, his wrist bones grinding when he rolls them back and forth. Screams are trying to tear themselves from his throat, but all that comes out is huffs of breath. His muscles refuse to move, his voice seems to have gone, the only thing left in control are his eyes. They are uselessly looking around the room for any sign of help. The only thing he sees is blackness, a cloth rubbing across his wet eyelashes. 

Dean struggles to move his body once more, jerking, and pulling, and once more, he gets nothing, no movement at all. The hands are removed from his wrists sliding down his shaking arms, down his chest, finally resting on his thighs. Dean feels hot breath ghost over his neck, and up to his ear. "Good boy." comes the slithery voice, sending chills through his body. His breath comes faster now, the weight on his chest getting heavier with ever heave of air. Alastair, Dean whimpers.

Snap out of it! Your not here, your with Cas, your safe! Wake up! Wake UP! 

Dean's body is heavy, so heavy, feels like it is packed with sand. He can smell the sweat, fogging up the room quickly. There is one kiss placed under his ear, and then the warmth of the breath is gone. The hands taking action once again, pushing out a slurred "stop." that sounds more like "Sttppa." He curses himself for being so pathetic. 

The sounding of a zipper makes his stomach flip, and his mind scream, ITS JUST A DREAM! The bed dips in between his spread legs, then he feels his own zipper being undone. "Plee" Dean whispers, trying to drag enough air in. "ssee" he sobs out the rest, all air escaping his lungs. "shhh, Dean. You know better than this." his voice is farther than before, and ridled with venom. 

Dean is shaking uncontrollably when his legs are lifted and his pants are ripped off of his legs. The sound of the material rippling through the room. He feels useless, unable to make any movement at all. The worst part of it all is he isn't tied down in any way, yet his arms and legs don't move. Dean feels the hands return, jerking his legs apart, and onto Alastair's slim shoulders. STOP! WAKE UP! BREATH! MOVE! CAS!! His mind screams.

And all that he manages to get out is another pathetic whimper. "Now Dean I won't ask twice, quiet." Alastair snaps, along with a sharp pain across his jaw, Dean's jaw clenching closed. The hands clasp around Dean's hips with a bruising grip. He has to choke down the full blown cry when he feels pressure against him. His chest is shaking violently with silent cries, and his heart is pounding in his ears. 

Then comes the hot and sticky blood that runs onto the sheets, quickly sending jolts of pain up his spine. He loses himself then, and let's the cries rip out of his chest. Long hands curl around his vulnerable throat, pushing everything he has left In him out. CAS PLEASE!'  
…

Castiel awakes to a whimpering sound beside him. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, and sits up in the darkened room. His eyes take a moment to adjust, as he sits and listens to the sound. Once his mind begins to clear he realizes the sounds are coming from Dean's slightly parted lips. The moon is highlighting his face, just enough for Cas to make out tears running down his face. Dean is still asleep, but he looks so pained, with his brows knitted together, and his lips letting out broken little cries. 

Cas scoots over beside him, and leans down "Dean?" he whispers gently, placing a soft hand on Deans whiskered face. The tears streaming onto Cas' fingers, the old one's wetting his cold fingers.  
..

The thrusts get harder with the more time that passes. His stomach lurches when Alastair fully hits inside, only to pull out and thrust back in with more force. Dean's cry's have silenced by the fingers around his airway, squeezed when he let's out any kind of noise. HE CAN'T BREATH, HE CAN'T MOVE, AND NO ONE IS HERE TO SAVE HIM. He let's the hope be ripped from his hands, let's Alastair use him, again and again. Because what else is he good for? What can he even do? He is paralyzed, he's used like a fuckin' blow up doll. 'just deflate, and throw away after usage.' 

"Good boy." is repeated over and over, the slithery voice sounding in human as it echoes on the hollow walls around him. He wants Cas, he NEEDS Cas, he needs this to be all a dream, he wants to be safe. He wants to wrap himself in the angels wings and never let go. Yet he is still stuck here, and made to endure ever last torturing second of this. 

Pain is all he feels, shooting through his legs and his back, his body like a rag doll as he takes all of it. All of this is lucid, but he can't control any of it, can't will his body to move. It's like being in a tiny locked closet, with a weight on your chest that seems to never leave. 

Dean gasps when the fingers loosen, he lets some air be let in.  
…

"Dean? Hey, wake up." Cas' voice is getting desperate, and his mind is starting to freak out at this point. Dean lay completely still on his back, and if weren't for the almost full volumed cries Cas wouldn't have noticed anything were happening. "Dean." he says again, trying his hardest to keep his voice under control.  
…

Another thrust has him want to double over with pain, the muscles of his stomach clenching and spasming desperately. "Pless." his mouth slack and hard to move as he whispers, as more tears wet the blindfold. Alastair growls low in his throat, to show Dean that he is getting inpatient with his whining. His mind is foggy, and he feels dizzy, like he has been drugged. Dean drags in a shaky breath, and more blood soaks the sheets, making them cold when he is pushed back down in them again. 

He wants to wake up most when he feels those hands coming back up his chest again. They cover behind his head, and then Dean feels a gush of cold air across his eyes. He flutters them rapidly, eager to see where he is. The darkness is hard to adjust to, and he can't see anything but an outline. But when they do adjust, and he can see again, he immediately regrets it. Alastair is smiling down at him, enjoying this messed up situation. Dean feels his stomach lurch again, and he screams. He actually screams, with all of his might.  
…

Cas is practically losing himself now, he is freaking out. And when Dean screams, he almost falls off of the bed in shock. He frantically tries to shake Dean awake now. "Dean!!"  
…

The hands cut him off in the middle of his scream, his wind pipe completely cut off. They're curling around his throat, fingernails like claws, digging painfully into him. The blood running down the sides, making his head spin unbelievably fast. He is shaking and hard, the bed moving with every painful thrust. As Alastair bottoms out, a maniac laugh echoing from those evil curling lips. His face morphing into something evil.

"Dean!!" 

He looks around the room frantically, Cas? 

"Dean! Please, wake up!"

Cas. It is definitely him.

He feels the evil hands morph, now on his shoulders. And the voice coming in more clearly, his pain fading out. Controlling in his arms and legs come back. And his eyes fly open for real this time.  
…

He feels his heart beat skip when Dean finally opens his eyes. Although he looks at Cas like he's an idiot, Cas takes him in for a hug. Giving a nervous laugh, and holding Dean's shaking body tightly. "Dean." he says calm again, relief washing over him. "You scared me." he whispers into Dean's ear, rubbing a hand up and down his sweaty back. He pulls back when Dean makes a strange strangled noise. Looking at him confusion, Dean pushes Cas away, and struggles off of the bed, running with a hand over his mouth down the hallway. 

Cas makes no attempts at moving, because he know exactly where Dean is going. 

Ever since Cas has lived with him, he has done this. He goes and throws up when he get's to overwhelmed. And every time Cas asks him about it the only response he gets is I'm fine. He knows for a fact that this is not normal, he knows something is wrong. And yet he is to afraid to know what is wrong, he can't bare losing Dean , not now, not ever. So he leaves it alone, plus he might think that it's just stress that is eating Dean up.  
…

The next morning Cas finds Dean and Gabriel in the living room, playing video games. And to his surprise Dean is smiling and laughing along with Cas' brother. He smiles at them, then quietly goes into the kitchen where he smells fresh coffee. Finding Sam with a coffee mug at the table, and typing away on his computer. "Morning." he says to the messy haired man sitting in his kitchen. He guesses Sam slept on the couch last night. "Hey, Mornin' Cas." he gets in return, Sam sounding a little over excited to see him. 

"Hope we didn't wake you last night." he says as he pours himself some coffee, into his favorite mug. He wonders just how loud they were last night, he hopes that he didn't wake any one. Sam stops typing, and looks at him, as he blows on the hot liquid, and leans on the countertop. "Why do you say that?" Sam says seriously. 

"Wait! Never mind I don’t wanna know." He says with a smile, holding one hand out. Cas tilts his head to the side "What do you mean?" Erupting a laugh from Sam. "You mean intercourse?" Cas asks, completely clueless as to what is going on. "Oh my god, Cas." he laughs again, covering his face in his hands.

"well did you guys, you know? Have sex?" Sam asks, with a 'I know your guys secret' face. Cas goes bright red, his eyes going huge. "No Sam. We didn’t-" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "Have se- sex." Cas tries to muster a confident voice, which makes Sam laugh harder. "If you say so." He replies, with a wink, returning to his computer.

Cas looks around to make sure no one else over heard that conversation, Gabriel would never stop teasing him about this one if he did hear. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, and clears his throat, his clothes feeling a little to tight, and his face burning red. "Has Dean ever had nightmares as a kid? Maybe sleep paralysis?" Cas tries again, keeping his voice serious, and his features stern. This gets Sam's attention, his face blank for a long moment. "No, never. He's always been a light sleeper. Why? What's going on?" he stares with those piercing whiskey colored eyes, turning his body fully towards Cas. "Last night he wouldn't wake up. I think it was a nightmare, but no matter how much I shook him he wouldn't wake." Cas is extremely confused by this, all of it playing over in his head.

"Well, Dean has been through some really rough things lately. And I wouldn't be surprised if this whole mess was what caused it." Sam replies confidently, turning back to his laptop again. Cas let's this all sink in, maybe it is just all the stress? 

He considers it for a moment before taking his coffee into the living room with him, and watching Dean play games with Gabriel all morning.  
...

Later that day Cas gets ready to go to work, with Dean following him around, acting like a lost puppy. He talks the entire time, which is a pleasant change. But Cas can't put work off again, he hasn't been for almost two weeks. Not like he needs a job, neither of them do, the family is so wealthy that he probably never has to work again. But he enjoys work, he would go crazy without it. He's also starting to think that Dean is also going crazy with nothing to do, he'll have to live with it though, because there is no way he is going out were he can get hurt.

"But I don't think he knows that." Dean finishes, with a small smile on his lips. Cas chuckles, and tilts Deans chin up gently. Those beautiful green eyes raising up to look at him, and this time he can't see pain behind them, and they are light almost glowing. "I will be home at about 3 or 4." Cas says, before leaning in to place a soft kiss to Dean's soft lips. The green eyes dim a little at the statement, a frown reaching his pouty lips. "Can't you just stay?" He asks in a small helpless voice, lowering his gaze to the floor. This makes Cas frown as well, taking Dean into a hug. " I can't, baby. But Gabriel will be home in about an half hour. You won't have to be alone for to long, okay?"

He tries to sound as calm and sweet as he can, even though it is killing him to tell Dean no. He doesn't raise his eyes again, he just stays silent and nods 'yes'. Cas kisses him on the top of the head, before leaving.  
…

When he gets to work, both Meg, and Conner are there. Great. He doesn't, as you say, hate the guy, but he gets the creeps from him. Especially after their little awkward makeout session, which he is never going to speak of, Ever! Cas walks to his spot behind the bar, getting to work as fast as possible. The people filing through the doors, and filling the bar quickly. Chatter, and singing, and dancing almost began immediately, filling the building with noise. 

In no time he is working on five or more drinks at a time, filling orders as fast as possible. As soon as those drinks are placed, more people flag him down.  
"whiskey."

"Just beer."

"martini." 

Castiel fills drinks, delivers them, then repeat's. Conner purposely bumps into him every time he comes back to make drinks for the booths. Which doesn't bother him when he is to busy to notice, but when the little obnoxious brat rubs against him, or slides his hands around where other people can't see, Cas' anger ignites. What does this man not understand about he has a boyfriend?? Which part of that was lost in translation. Cas isn't the type to be angry, but lately he has been furious, even over tiny things that shouldn't matter at all. But it doesn't matter because he has Dean now, and that's all that does matter to him. 

"Hey! Over here." Cas turns to another costumer, trying his best to keep the fury buried. He really just wishes he could be at home right now, cuddling up to Dean. Instead he has to be here. 

Cas works quickly on getting the next order filled, sweat already covering his brow from running constantly. Not even two hours in and this is turning into torture. "How's it goin?" Conner almost whispers in his ear, hot breath running down his neck. Cas' glare intensifies, and damn, if he doesn't growl on accident. Conner laughs in response, finally backing away, out of his personal space. "It's going fine." Cas growls back, reaching next to Conner for a bottle of scotch. He purposely avoids standing next to him, just so he doesn't have to be rubbed up against like a fucking cat. He pours the drink, and hands it to an older looking man sitting at the bar. 

Cas searches the bar out of old habit, scanning through everyone just like he used to when he was searching for those green eyes. There are still many people in the bar, dancing, crowding the stools along the bar, and the booths and tables throughout the lobby. He is still fairly annoyed, and want's to go home, but knows he has to stay, for Meg's sake. She wouldn't make it all night long with only Conner by her side. Before Cas can turn around again, he feels Conner's fucking hand grabbing his ass, and hard. And if that wasn't horrible enough he whispers "See you later, big boy." in his ear, before turning and walking quickly back to the booth's he is tending too. Cas is going to kill that little bastard before the night is over, if he would have been fast enough to turn around just barely, he would have slapped him across his foul mouth. 

Cas' anger burns higher, less and less patience these days. He takes a deep steadying breath, and walks up to the next costumer. Cas recognizes him right away, Tattoo guy, from the night at the bar, the guy that was so creepily obsessed with 'His' Dean. Damn if tonight could get any worse.

"What can I get for you?" cas asks, not even trying to hide the anger in his deep voice. This seems to startle the man a little, but only for a moment. He looks at Cas confidently, a smile spreading across his gorgeous features. Those dark brown eyes searching his, slowly raking down his chest. Making Cas feel uncomfortable, does this man eye fuck everyone? His eyes slowly return to his face, and he licks his lips. "where's your boyfriend?" He asks in the most amazing sounding voice. Cas slits his eyes "What's it to you?" He returns rudely. 

The man just laughs, and shrugs his shoulders. "Only wondering if you had one. Someone like you shouldn't be left alone." The man states, winking, and then turning away, to rejoin his friends. What the hell is it about him tonight? He has been hit on constantly, what is he doing different? 

This has to be the most strangest days he has had in a very long time.  
…

Dean sits alone at home, trying his best to keep himself occupied. Gabriel was supposed to be home about three hours ago, and never showed. So he has been tearing the house apart, cleaning it, then putting it back together again. He can’t stand being locked up like freakin Rapunzel all day, or whatever the hell that princess' name was. It makes him go crazy to not be doing something at all times. Especially because it gives him less time to think. And because he feels sick, and tired, he just wants Cas. He realizes how needy he has been, well still is, but he needs the comfort. And really Cas is the best guy he has ever met. So you can't blame him for cuddling up to him like he is some kind of teddy bear. 

Dean finishes putting the last of the dishes away in the kitchen. Great, now he has nothing to do, the entire house is scrubbed clean. He decides on a hot shower, since he smells now that he cleaned, and the fact that he feels like total crap. He really wished Cas would come home…

He strips his clothes off, and steps into the shower. Turning it a little hotter than he is used too, and then letting it wash everything away. The spray splashing across his neck and back, running down his lowered face, and then falling to the ground. He closes his eyes, and let's the sound of the shower lull him into relaxation. 

…

Cas comes home at around 3:30 am. The house is quiet, and all the light have been shut off. He takes notice in the spotless house, and the scent that has been added with it, pine trees. He forces his heavy feet into the bedroom, and grabs some pj's out of his dresser. Dean is sound asleep in his bed already, once again wearing one of Cas' shirts. And soaking the pillow with his wet hair. Cas smiles sleepily, and goes to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. 

When he comes back he is so eager to see Dean again, and climbs into the warm bed with him. He makes sure the blanket covers both of them, then he wraps his arms around dean's waist, pulling him tighter against chest. It feels so good to finally have him close again, he feels like he is going crazy when they are apart for to long. Dean makes a sleepy noise, nuzzling himself against Cas' warm chest even more. Castiel smiles, and then yawns "Goodnight Dean." He whispers before kissing his shoulder, and letting his eyes fall closed. He slips under quickly, letting the dreams roll over him.  
…

.  
.  
>>> "It takes one minute to make someone's day. And one word to destroy someone's life.


	21. safe place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to update.

Dean awakes to an empty bed, and the smell of pancakes covering the room. He turns over towards the bedroom door, glancing at the clock. 8:32 Am. Jesus, does Cas ever sleep? Seems like every morning Dean wakes up to an empty bed. He chuckles at the thought, rubbing his glazed over eyes with the palm of his warm hand. He is still damn tired, but pancakes? He can suffer being sleepy for pancakes. Dean pushes his tired body up off of the bed, sliding his socks across the floor lazely. He yawns at his reflection, his short spiky hair sticking up in every way possible, Should he even go through the effort to get ready? Nah. 

He sways a little from where he stand, his head trying it's best to come out of sleep. Dean get's his footing back, and walks towards the delicious smell. He imagines Cas in only an apron, flipping pancakes, his black hair in it's usually messy state, and a gorgeous smile across his face. "mmm." he grunts at the image he created, with small deviant smile. That would be quiet a sight to see. He shakes off the grin as he approaches the kitchen. The smell is stronger now, bacon and eggs mixing along with the air. His mouth practically waters at the idea of food. He hasn't eaten for a couple days, well he hasn't Really eaten. By the end of the day it always ends up in a garbage can nearby or a toilet if he can run fast enough. 

He walks through the doorway, more light cascading into his sensitive eyes. He can see Cas swaying slightly over the top of the stove. He is humming quietly, beautifully, some song Dean doesn't recognize. As he imagined Cas' hair is a mess, as always, but to Dean's disappointment he is fully dressed. He is dressed in black slacks, and a white button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Only he could be fully dressed, and still look attractive as hell. This looks almost like it is out of Dean's dreams, the way cas looks, the way he sounds, everything seems perfect. Everything is perfect.

Dean came from having nothing, and being treated as nothing, to everything he has ever wished and hoped for. It wasn't easy, and he never thought he would have anything like this. But now that he does, he is glad he suffered through all the pain. Because if he wouldn't have, he wouldn't be here, with Cas. 

Cas has become his whole world, the light at the end of his very dark tunnel. Everything he has ever wanted, someone to heal the painful memories, and to dull the vivid nightmares. 

He had always been taught to believe that happy endings weren’t real, and that he would never be good enough to deserve one. His father had been the one to beat that one into him. But somehow he never truly lost hope that someone out there would be his one and only, and then the rest of the world would just fade out. Even though he truly thought he had already met his one and only when he was a teenager. A kid he went to high school with, someone named Eric, if he remembers right. And shockingly John had been the one to end that too. Along with the most extensive punishments he has ever experienced. Now that he had Cas, he believed maybe this is his happy ending. And everything his father had told him was only a fairytale, was real, here, and know. Maybe this is the way Dean was supposed to get his happy ending all along.

That's too bad he can't live his fairytale forever.

"Dean?"

Cas' voice cuts through his thoughts, light overlapping the surrounding darkness. And then Cas is in front of him, his beautiful blue eyes brighter than most days. And the dark bags that usually hang below his eyes, are gone, leaving him even more amazing looking than ever. Not to mention he is smiling, such a rare thing that Cas does. Not the fake smile either, one that reaches his eyes, and shines throughout his body, making Dean's heart warm and fuzzy. He is usually so worried when he looks at Dean, but not right now, which makes him so happy to be here. 

"you okay?" he whispers into Dean's ear, as he pulls him into a gentle hug. Dean nods 'yes' in response, nuzzling into the crook of Cas' neck, and inhaling the sweet green apple scent. He doesn't exactly know why, but he feels like he can't be close enough to him, he is craving the safe feeling Cas gives him. If he hadn't went through what he went through, he wouldn't have let anyone hold him like this. John's voice would have been screaming at him to stop being such a girl. 

Cas pulls away after a moments, locking his gaze onto dean's when he fully pulls away. "You hungry?" he asks with a smile. "starving." He replies, with a smile, taking a seat at the table, while Cas saunters back to the stove. He returns to humming, the same song when dean came in. And damn if it didn't send chills down his spine. 

It isn't long before he is eating the best pancakes he has ever tasted, who knew that Cas was such a good cook? Well at least at breakfast. He can't help but catch the blue eyes staring at him from across the table every few minutes. Cas can't seem to keep his eyes off Dean the entire time they eat. And yet this doesn't disturb him, actually, it makes him feel safer, loved. "what are you staring at?" He finally asks, keeping his eyes locked onto Cas'. The blue once again crashing with green, both intense with feelings. "You." Cas says in a low voice, giving a small smile, but never removing his stare from Deans. 

"Why?" he eggs on, relishing in the moment, wanting more of Cas with every look. At that Cas goes still, and serious, the blue seeming to intensify. "Because, Dean, your perfect." He says in the same voice, but this time with more meaning, and more of a sincere voice. Dean removes his eyes from Cas', too stare down at the empty plate in front of him. His cheeks seem like they are on fire, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling. 

…

 

It's not until later that day that he decides that he wants to get out of the house. But not just that, he wants to take Cas somewhere. Somewhere he has never shown any one else, somewhere that is and was very special to him. A place he used to call home, when home became to much for him too handle. He realizes Cas means a lot to him, has for a while, and that he means enough to be shown these secrets.

…

 

Cas sits in the passenger seat as Dean drives up a secluded dirt road. All he can see are trees surrounding them, and a small creek running along side the small road. He has absolutely no idea where they are, or even where they are going, but he can barely hold still in his seat. He isn't good with not knowing everything at all times, way to curios for any of that. But he waits as patiently as he can manage, as they drive up the beautiful road. Dean wouldn't explain anything, nor would he tell Cas where they were. He says it's a surprise and to stop asking about it, but Cas can barely hold back his curiosity. 

But by the way Dean's eyes are lighting up from looking around, It has to be important. So Cas shuts his mouth, and sits quietly, waiting to get were they are going. 

It seems like forever before Dean stops the car, and gets out. It looks the same as before, just trees everywhere. He is a little confused as to where they are going, or why they are getting out. And soon enough he finds an answer to that question as well. Dean walks through the middle of two huge trees, leading up hill, and waves for Cas to follow. Dean carries the backpack he packed before they came, with ease, like he has done this millions of times before. And every time he looks over his shoulder, to make sure Cas is doing okay, he smiles, big and bright. Probably the happiest he has ever seen Dean before, and it makes him smile in return. 

There is no trail to lead the way, just Dean, and from the looks of it he is going off of memory. It gets steeper the more they move up, slowly turning walking into crawling. The rocks letting loose and tumbling down the sides as they try to find more grip. "This was easier when I was a kid." Dean remarks, with a laugh, just as more rocks tumble towards Cas. "I bet." Cas replies breathlessly, following Dean's swift and easy movements towards the top. 

His chest is burning when Dean finally stops, and takes a left. A trial forming through a tight space of trees. Dean walks easily, through the trees, knocking branches that have grown In the way. And then the most amazing thing happens. The trees open up, into a look over the top of the city, and the rest of the mountains. Cas has to hold back his gasp, everything is so beautiful, so peaceful. The area is secluded with huge pine trees, almost making it feel like you are looking onto the world through a tv screen. And to make it even better, Dean is smiling. Already setting the backpack down, and walking towards the cliff. Cas follows behind him, taking Dean around the waist and pulling him closer, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder.

He takes the beautiful scenery in, soaks everything up. The way the roads twist through the town, and the buildings are scattered around. They are high up enough that you Cant even see the cars below, it makes everything feel frozen for a moment. Like the whole world stopped, just for a moment, just enough time for everyone to stop and appreciate their surroundings. Cas inhales deeply, the smell of pine trees releasing held up stress. "It's beautiful." He comments after a couple minutes have passed. Dean lets out a small agreeing noise, then walks over to where the back pack is. 

He pulls out a blanket, and some water, rolling the blanket out across the dirt, and then sitting down on top. "I used to come here as a kid." Dean says, his eyes still searching the view. Cas sits down next to him, and takes a drink of water. "Used to be my safe place, you know?" He adds, his voice still in a dazed state. "Whenever life got to be to much I would come up here. Hide from everyone for a while." Cas lets his gaze fix itself on the buildings below. "It was safe, like home, somewhere I didn't have to hide anymore. Where I was accepted." His voice breaks a little, and he inhales deeply before continuing. 

"Time felt like it stopped here, like……like I could finally rest. There was no one here with me, no one to hold me down. I felt." he breaks off, breathing in slowly. "Okay." He finishes, his eyes a complete void of emotion as they search the things below. "Yeah, I felt good here. And I didn't feel rushed either, I could take my time, enjoy myself. Even though I would have to deal with the consequences when I got home, it seemed worth it." He finishes, letting out a huff of breath. "I spent some of my hardest times up here, a lot of memories are held here. And not all bad of course, some of the best memories came from here." He smiles, looking down to his hands, then over to Cas briefly.

"It kind of got me thinking." He says, in mixed voice, bordering on sad and happy. "It got me thinking that I could never find such an amazing thing like this." he catches Cas' gaze, and holds it then. "But Cas, I did find something just as amazing, even better, I found you." He smiles, taking Cas' hand in his own. His eyes holding more than he could have ever imagined. "And Cas your even better than I could have ever wished, you are more than I ever deserved. And this place was one of the most special things I have ever had. It was so important that I swore that I would never show anyone." Dean looks down again, squeezing onto his hand. "The only way I ever would was If I truly loved that person. And Cas.." He slows, locking gazes once more, tears threatening to run down his freckled cheeks. "I love you." Dean whispers.

Castiel doesn't hesitate after that, he lets out a humorless laugh just as the tears fall from his eyes. "I love you too Dean."  
…

Before they leave Dean carves the initials CN and DW into the tree he was most fond of as a kid. Something they can look back on, something that will keep what they have alive. Dean is finally starting to feel okay, like everything will be okay.

.  
.  
. >>> " I hate how easily I remember the things that you would rather forget."


	22. remember me ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been forever since I've posted....I have been super busy getting my stuff ready for comic con.  
> So i'm really sorry that it isn't as long, but I really put a lot into this one, and I actually like it. Weird?  
> Anyway hopefully I can try to update more, I know how much I hate waiting for updates so I will try harder.  
> and thank you for all of your support! and kudos, especially comments! everyone is so sweet. and I love you all! :) 
> 
> Enjoy<3

Cas wakes early the next morning, smiling when the events of yesterday come rushing back. He watched Dean walk up to the biggest and most beautiful tree, and carve their initials into the old bark. It was something that meant so much, such a small gesture that felt like the world. He doesn't even feel like it really happened, just because it was something so amazing, especially coming from Dean. The man that always refuses to talk about anything, unless forced to talk. But he came out with this, something that was clearly so important to him. So important that he vowed to never show anyone, and yet? He showed Cas, making him the luckiest man alive. 

Sure, it was depressing that Dean needed a safe place, but it's also sacred, worth something, a piece of the green eyed man he fell deeply in love with. He will take anything he can get, he wants desperately to know more about Dean. Including his past, no matter how horrible. He wants to know everything.

Cas yawns, smiling to himself, still feeling Dean breathing steadily next to him. The sun is barely rising, poking through his blinds, like every other morning. But this time, the rays are splashing over Dean's face, his freckles standing out against the orange stain. He officially has no bruises left from Alastair, no markings, that make him someone else's property. He is here for Cas' taking. 

He stretches out his sore muscles, all that hiking finally taking effect. And rolls out of bed, kissing Dean on the four head, before grabbing some jeans and a T-shirt. He dresses quickly, not bothering to take care of his hair, they have a big day today. Well Dean has a big day, and Cas needs to be ready to be there for him…

He can't share clothes anymore, even though he loves Dean wearing his clothes, laundry is a full day thing now. And Cas doesn't have enough clothes to share between two people. Which can only mean one thing, they get to go get Dean's clothes, from his old house, with Alastair. Cas sighs, as he pours some coffee, and joins Gabriel on the couch. "Hey little brother." Gabe says cheerily, leaning forward, and hitting the controller buttons quickly. He has a headset on, as other players of the game speak to him, and he blows out orders for them to follow. 

"Move around the back!" He shouts, jerking in his seat when a explosion erupts on the screen. He huffs, then bursts out laughing "Fuckin' Benny, I told you to move around back." 

"Well excuse me princess, I couldn't move fast enough." Comes the heavy accent. "Hey! Revive me!" the same voice explodes, making Gabriel laugh again. 

"why should i?" Gabe shoots back, wiggling his eyebrows like someone could see him anyway…"Because if you don't, I'm gonna track you down, and I'm gonna kill you. Now revive me fucker." Benny shouts, as his player is revived and stands back up, bloodied, with gun in hand. 

Castiel shakes his head, sometimes he thinks Gabriel will never grow up. He starts when hands cover his eyes, the screen and the rest of living room disappearing. And then he smiles, as soon as he smells Dean's cologne. "Guess who?" Dean laughs, tilting Cas' head back, and pressing his warm lips to Cas'. He hums in pleasure, reaching up and threading his hands through Dean's hair. The upside down kiss still just as amazing as a normal one. 

"Morning." Cas breaths out, opening his eyes to stare up at those green orbs. Dean smiles, his eyes still droopy from sleep. "Hey! Can't you see that I'm trying to play a game here? Get a room." Gabriel exclaims obnoxiously, giving Cas a quick shove to the shoulder. Dean laughs, and then disappears through the kitchen door, returning a moment later with the box of cookies Gabriel brought home from work yesterday. He plops next to Cas, and snuggles in close while eating the chocolate chip treat. 

…

Dean stares at the house, when they pull into the driveway. His heart racing as he can practically see Alastair emerge from the front door. He closes his eyes, and takes a steadying breath. 

~~~

"Dean!" he cheers, as Dean gets out from the car. He smiles, and Al smiles back "I've got a surprise for you" Alastair says sweetly, beckoning Dean further up the steps. He complies walking excitedly towards his boyfriend, meeting him on their porch. It's spring, and the flowers are starting to bloom again, making their yard look stunning. The house practically glowing, it was so beautiful. 

~~~

He opens his eyes again, frowning at the sad house that lie there. Everything that was theirs has died, and faded, making the house look abandon and sad. Cas touches his shoulder softly, giving a tight smile when Dean meets his gaze. "ready?" Cas asks, waiting for his hesitant nod. He opens the car door, and places a heavy foot on the concrete. Stilling for a moment, while he gets the courage to place another foot down. He shuts the car door, and then pauses again. 

~~~

He hugs Al tightly, crashing his lips onto Alastair's sweet one's. Taking the moment in as much as he can, soaking the love up. He pulls away, and looks up to those grey eyes, falling deep within there pits. "Well? Shall we go in?" Al asks, Dean immediately takes a hold of his hand and nods with another grin. 

~~~

"Should we go in?" Cas asks, with a sad look across his features. Dean nods, letting his eyes gaze at the chipped paint of the red door. He slides the key in slowly, then opens the door, letting Dean step in first. He sucks In a breath through his nose, letting the sweet smell sadden him more. He doesn't even realize his eyes are closed again, until the snap of the door being closed pulls them open. He let's them roam over the familiar house, everything feels…….Empty. 

The once vibrant colors seem faded and dead. The furniture that used to seem so perfect, so rare, now feels pointless. 

~~~

Alastair leads Dean to the couch, and guides him to sit down. "Close your eyes." He says softly, placing a hand on His thigh. Dean grins, letting his eyes fall closed. He hears rustling, and Al's hand disappear. "No peeking!" He shouts, from what sounds like the next room.

~~~

Castiel stands silently behind Dean, while Dean's heart feels ripped out all over again. His eyes burn with the sweet memory, and his hands tremble by his sides as he steps further into the room. He runs his fingers over the soft fabric, looking around the room, to see that nothing has changed, everything is still in it's place. He sits on the soft couch, and runs his hands across the cushion, where Alastair would always sit….He let's his eyes fall shut.

~~~

"Okay, open your eyes!" 

~~~

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, the burning becoming more intense. He grips the cushion next to him, and clenches his jaw. And refuses to move when Cas places a soft hand on his shoulder. 

~~~

Dean opens his eyes slowly with the biggest grin on his face. Until he sees it, a small picture Al holds in front of Dean's face.

~~~

Dean lets the first tear fall, soaking into the fabric of his jeans. 

~~~

Dean's grin fades, into something much more, into complete and utter love. The picture Alastair holds is one he thought he would never see again. One of him and his mother, he sits on her lap looking up to her face with a small grin, while mary seems like she was laughing when the picture was taken. He thought that all of the pictures were destroyed from the fire….

~~~  
He let's another tear fall, and Cas' hand tighten on his tense shoulder. 

~~~

"where did you find this?" Dean huffs, letting a happy tear streak down his face. "I've got my recourses." Alastair smiles, handing the picture to Dean. Dean looks at it, then places it over his heart, the tears running down his smiling face. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me." Dean whispers, throwing his arms around Al's slim shoulders. 

~~~  
Dean squeezes his eyes tighter, a sob erupting from his throat.

~~~

"I love you." Dean cries, laughing when Al pulls back, and places a soft kiss to his trembling lips. "I love you too Dean."

~~~

"Dean?" Cas' voice cuts through, making Dean open his eyes again. He looks over to Cas' worried face, those blue eyes studying him. "Are you okay?" He whispers, rubbing his back soothingly. Dean nods, letting the memory fade into nothing…

…

Cas lets Dean keep everything and anything he wants, which isn't a lot, but it's still something. He is strangely quiet the entire time they pack things up. He doesn't say anything about earlier, and neither does Cas. They get everything packed up into Cas' car, and then drive away. Dean watches the house until it disappears in the rear view mirror.  
…

>>> "I'm not brave anymore, darling. I'm all broken. They've broken me."


	23. anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay as promised a new chapter!

Dean watches the house disappear through the rearview mirror, he watches everything he once knew disappear along side it. But he doesn't feel sad about leaving his past behind, he desperately wants to move forward, with Cas. He is starting to think that it's better this way, without Alastair. Of course he knew before that what Alastair and himself had was wrong, and never really felt right. Even when Al had been truly been in love with Dean, he knew something wasn't right, like they didn't fit together. And he has a different feeling about Castiel, like they do fit, and everything will work out. It means a lot for Cas to be there with him, to catch him when things become to much. For him to think of Dean in that manner, to put his needs before anyone else's, it makes Dean feel like maybe he is special, maybe he is worth something. And maybe Dean does deserve a happy ending…

The house, the memories, they all dissipate, along with any love he had remaining for Alastair. He is able to give all of his love to Cas, and to finally let go of Alastair completely.

Dean relaxes to the soft soothing sound of the mercedes humming down the street. And when they finally turn off of his street, no, Alastair's street, he lets comfort take him completely. Everything is going to be okay.

…

Cas pulls the car next to Gabriel's, and looks over to see Dean asleep in the passenger seat. His mouth slightly agape, and his lips turned up into a soft smile. Cas gives a shake of his head, along with a small grin. "Dean." he whispers, leaning over the seat to rub Dean's arm in attempts to wake him. Sure enough Dean mumbles, then rubs his tired eyes. "We're home." cas states, ignoring the fact that he just admitted to sharing a house with Dean….Finally. "K." He says sleepily, giving a yawn before stepping out of the car.

They carry the few boxes inside and set them inside Cas' room, since this is soon to be their room. He makes a spot in the closet for Dean's clothes, then helps speed up the slow process of unpacking. He wants to make this as painless as possible for Dean, he would have went to the house alone if he knew what Dean would of wanted to pack. He would do it just because it would cause as little pain as possible. Then again he thinks that Dean needed some form of a goodbye so that he can move on with his life. 

The unpacking goes slow, as suspected. Dean takes a extremely long time to unpack one thing at a time. He looks at the things like they are going to attack him, or, he looks like he is going to cry all over again. Cas unpacks the clothes, so that Dean can unpack the more important things. He can't help but want for this to be over, and for Dean to be healed, but he knows it is going to take a lot more time. He just can't help but want to cry with Dean, he hates to see him so hurt. He wants to see that amazing smile, hear him laugh for hours, he wants him to be happy. 

Dean picks up some cd's out of the box he is sitting next too, in the middle of the floor, and smiles. He looks at each one with a grin, then sets them beside him. Cas walks over to the bed and pulls out a couple more shirts. He can't help but smirk at how many flannels Dean owns. He begins to hang them up on the left side of the closet. 

He lifts the last shirt, and frowns. There is blood splattered down the front, and not just a drop or two, almost the entire front of the shirt is covered in blood. He lifts it higher for a better view, and sure enough there's a large rip from top almost all the way down to the bottom. Cas sighs in frustration, and puts a shaking hand over his eyes, breathing in, then out. He wants to rip Alastair's throat out, the bastard deserves so much worse than sitting in a jail cell. He kicks himself for not being able to have helped sooner, if only he met Dean sooner. Then they wouldn't be in this mess. It hurts to know how much Alastair ripped Dean apart, to know that he was the one who did this damage. And it hurts to know that underneath Dean's clothes are probably scars, a lot more than he wants to think about. 

He lowers his shaky hand, and looks over to were Dean is sitting on the floor. He is still smiling while he digs through the box in front of him. Cas wants to ask about the shirt, he wants to know what could have happened to make the shirt that bloody and ripped. But he doesn't, because bringing this up will only bring tears. And he doesn't think he is stable enough to handle a sad Dean. Not when he feels so angry, so depressed, on the verge of collapsing to the floor. 

So he does what's safest, shuts his mouth, and continues unpacking in silence. 

…

The next day Cas drives to work, leaving behind all of his worries.

He pulls into his parking space, already tons of people forming in groups outside. He turns the car off and takes a deep breath, stepping out he hears the thumping of music from inside. He slowly makes his way inside, tying his apron, and shoving his cell phone in the front pocket, as he reaches the large metal door. He flings it open carelessly and walks inside, warm air exploding around him, and music getting louder. He walks through the double swinging doors, scanning for the people working tonight. Meg is serving someone against the far right wall, and Conner is picking up dirty glasses off of one of the tables near the left of the lobby. Cas huffs frustration at the sight of Conner, he's really not in the mood for the little prick, not tonight. 

He makes his way to the middle of the bar, checking everything before turning back to the costumers. In no time there is a man waving him over to the end of the bar, near the seat Dean once sat in, the first night they met. 

"What can I do for you?" Cas says, practically like a robot, he's said it so many times. The man smiles, making awkward eye contact with Cas. He has green eyes, like Dean's, but they aren't as vibrant, and not even near as special. "How bout' we start with your number?" he shoots back in a husky voice, winking. Cas resists the urge to roll his eyes, and shakes his head instead. "Sorry can't do that." he says, because damn it he can't think of anything better to say. Plus he is still overwhelmed from last night, and really not in the mood for any of this crap. 

The man recovers quick, smiling again, and wider, he leans over the counter. "And why's that?" he challenges, lifting his thick brown eyebrows towards Cas. He clenches his jaw to keep from lashing out "Boyfriend." He cuts out, squinting his eyes. The man frowns, and leans back, about fucking time. "Fine, then just some scotch." He huffs sadly. 

Cas turns and smiles, while he gets to work on the order. 

"Hey Cas!" Ugh, Conner, how exciting. "castiel." he clips out, not even bothering to look up at the boy. "I've missed you! You have been taking a lot of time off of work." Conner still sounds cheery, bouncing next to him, and grabbing a bottle from the shelf. 'And I don't really give a flying fuck' Castiel thinks in response. He just wants to go home and cuddle up to Dean. "Is this because of your 'boyfriend'?" he says, and the little shit actually throws the air quotes in there. Cas growls, and then sighs in frustration. "Yes." Cas replies shortly, handing the drink to the man at the bar. 

"Why?" Conner asks, still smiling like an idiot. "It's personal." he rolls his eyes, tucking a tip left on the bar into his black apron. Conner sets his drinks down, his smile fading and walks over to Cas. He is way to close for Cas' liking, he can practically feel his hot breath across his face. "IS everything ok?" He says in a hushed voice, actually managing to look concerned. "fine." he turns away, and walks over to another costumer. 

"two shots please." the blonde guy says, without making eye contact. He looks a little young to be here, Cas shrugs his shoulders and turns to grab them. Conner has went back out to do his damn job, for once. He's relieved to see Meg behind the bar, filling her tray with drinks. He moves next to her, and places a quick kiss to her cheek. Finding the feeling tugging him is that he has missed her, and bad. "Hey Clarence." She smiles, looking over happily towards Cas' small smiling face. "I've missed you." He blurts.

She grins wider "Oh, and I missed you." She replies, running her hand down his shoulder then turning away with her tray, and heading over to a table near the back. 

He pours the shots, and almost drops them again when he turns around. 

Beard is standing casually against the dark wood of the bar, smiling right at Castiel. He drops the shots down, without a glance the kids way, keeping his eyes locked on Beard. He feels his phone buzzing, but ignores it. All of the music is drowned out, his heart rate accelerating and beating loudly in his ears. He feels his fists clench, and his light blue eyes darken with hate, and blinded rage. 

His phone buzzes again, more persistent against his thigh. 

He glares, and takes ragged breath through his mouth. 

There is heavy hand on his shoulder, but is easily ignored. 

The man smiles wider, and winks. 

Pushing Castiel further towards his rage as he glares.

His phone buzzes again, third time now.

He can't hear anything, the music only thumping weakly against his ears.

His blood runs hotter with anger, the more he stares at the evil in front of him the more his fists clench.

Another buzzing sensation, and a tighter hold on his shoulder.

He. Is. Going. To. Kill. The. Bastard.

"cas!?" comes a barley heard voice from beside him, Megs voice. 

He doesn't register his movements.

Another buzz.

His fist connects with the scruffy beard, over the top of the bar. 

The blow is so hard that Beard immediately falls to the ground.

Cas peaks over the counter, as another buzz comes from his phone. Beard is knocked out cold, and Meg is screaming at him and pushing him through the double doors, to the back of the building. 

People are gathering around the unconscious man.

Cas slowly get's his bearings back, the music sounding normal again as Meg stands in front of him. "What the hell Cas?"

"Your lucky Crowley isn't here tonight." 

Cas looks down to his shaking hands, then pulls out his phone.

6 missed calls from Gabriel.

And 1 new message.

He furrows his brow, Gabriel rarely ever contacts Cas.

"Castiel! Are you listening to me?" Meg shouts, shaking his shoulders.

*PLEASE ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE!* he reads

*something's wrong with Dean he blacked out in the kitchen and isn't breathing!!!* 

TBC

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>>> "Monsters don't sleep under your bed, they sleep inside your head."


	24. crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so sorry it took so long to update! I have been so busy with work, and comic con was this weekend. this is all I managed to get done. and there hopefully will be more soon. and sorry about not being able to finish the scene. 
> 
> enjoy! and thank you all for reading and leaving comments/ kudos. it means so much to me:)

Cas almost drops his phone while reading the message. He pushes through Meg, ignoring her screaming as he goes. He breaks into a run, pushing with all of his force through the back metal door. He ignores the cold blast of air that comes at him, and speed dials Gabriel. Fumbling for his keys as the phone rings, and rings. He unlocks the car, and jumps in, starting it as quickly as possible. His mind is going so fast that he barely hears the voice on the other side of the line. "Cas! Where the hell are you?"

He pushes his car through the alley way, not even bothering to look both ways for traffic. The car bounces with how fast he pushes through the bump, then takes a sharp left. "What's going on? Where's Dean?" He asks finally, almost entirely wrecked voice. He makes sure there are no cops before speeding through a red light, a small car halting to stop and honking at him, while he speeds down the secluded roads. "I don't know, they are working on him now. He was talking to me one minute, then he was gasping and choking. And when he fell to the floor he stopped breathing entirely. What in the hell is happening!?" His brother gasps, shouting into the phone.

Cas tries to breath, and stay calm. "Okay, okay. Just……tell me is he breathing?" He stumbles over his slow words. There's choked noise, then some rustling. Cas forgets to breath for a second, turning another sharp corner quickly. "Gabriel?" he asks impatiently, blowing through a stop sign. He can hear Gabriel talking to someone, but can't make out the words. He barely hears the next words as Gabe replies, as flashing blue lights come up behind him. "Fuck." he mumbles, bringing the car to the side of the road. "Castiel, did you hear me!" his brother screams. He sighs, and punches the dashboard, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Yes, I heard you. He's not breathing." Cas replies through gritted teeth, feeling the blood run down his knuckles. He hangs up the phone with no further care. And jumps when the police officer knocks on his window loudly. It takes a minute to make himself roll down the window, and not just speed off. "License and registration." The bulky man states, glaring at Cas through the lowered window. He grits his teeth, and bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Handing his things through the window without a glance towards the asshole. "Okay, Castiel Novak. Where were you going that required you to do 90 miles per hour?" He sounds like a mother that's scolding you, Cas glares straight through his windshield.

"Family emergency." He clips angrily. The cop huffs a loud breath, scribbling down on his notepad, then handing him a ticket, and his things back. "Have a nice day." the man says turning and walking back to his car. Cas almost rips the fine in half and throws it back out the window. The bastard didn't even give him a freebee, looking at him like he was lying about this. He watches the car flip around, and drive away. He grunts frustration, then continues to speed down the road. Fuck the police, he just needs to find Dean.

When he skids into his parking space, he sees them loading Dean into the ambulance. He rushes out of his car, leaving the door open and the engine running. He runs as fast as possible over to Dean, paramedics pushing him back. "Please let me see him." Cas shouts, trying his best to look over the man's shoulder. He peeks at Dean, but can't tell if he is alive or not. "we need to get his breathing under control, and he is no shape for company." Cas pushes against him more. "Sir please calm down." He grunts, pushing back with all of his strength. 

That's when Gabriel grabs a hold of his shoulders, and tugs him back. "We'll follow them to the hospital." He says calmly, pushing Cas towards the car, until he starts to walk there himself.   
…

He runs through the emergency doors along side the bed. Holding Dean's hand as they run through the halls, watching his unconscious face as they go. He whispers that it's going to be okay, and that he loves him. Until he is pushed back, and is watching Dean be rolled further into the halls. " Sir, I'm going to need you to wait in the waiting room. I will have his assigned doctor come and give you the details on Deans condition, once we get him stable." A small brunette girl says calmly, flipping around and running down the hall where Dean just disappeared. 

Cas takes a deep breath in, then turns to head back to the waiting room. He has calmed down a lot more with the drive here. He finds his way to the room, Gabriel sitting against the farthest wall. He walks over to join him.

…

An hour passes in silence.

…

Two hours and a nurse hands him a form to fill out.

…

Three and he feels antsy. He just needs to know if Dean is okay, that's all. And every person that walks into the room, he hopes for it to be the doctor, but never is. Gabriel hasn't said much, just some small talk to try and get their minds off of things. He feels Gabe eyeballing him, rubbing his hands together nervously. He keeps his gaze trained on the hallway, where the doctor should be coming from. He can hear the same infomercial play over and over again, from the small box tv hanging in the left corner. And the little boy whining to his mother, that sit straight across from them. He also sees nurses come up to one of the desks every few minutes, asking the receptionist questions, and collecting paper work. Along with the phone that rings every few minutes. Every time a nurse walks by they look at him and Gabriel, their expressions sad. He can barely sit here for five minutes before being looked at, whispered about. 

He rubs his sweaty hands across his apron a few times, the commercial starting all over again. He looks down to his shaky hands, scrubbing at the dried blood across his knuckles. Before his eyes are met by huge green ones, and a small smile, little soft hands resting against his thighs. "Why are you wearing that." he points to the apron, scrunching his tiny nose up adorably. "funny looking thing." He finishes, his voice so small and squeaky. Cas can't help but smile at the small being. "why do you think I wear it?" he teases, huffing. "Umm." the kid says, lowering those huge eyes to Cas' lap. He bites his lip, then looks up with a huge smile, a lot bigger than he thought the tiny kid could manage.

"You’re a super hero." he says confidently, smiling again, and stomping his small boots on the tiled floor. "that's right." he manages to get out in between laughing. The little laugh that comes out of the kid is heartwarming, he reminds Cas a lot of Dean…

"Tanner! Leave the poor man alone." the woman is now standing in front of Cas, grabbing a hold of the kids tiny hand. She looks up to Cas, and gives him a sad smile "Sorry about that." She apologizes. "it's okay. I don’t mind." he returns, with the same smile. She tugs the jumping and laughing little kid toward the hallway, following a doctor. "Wait!" he screams, making his mother look at him in confusion. He pulls free from his mom, and runs towards Cas throwing his tiny arms around Cas' neck, and pulling him into a tight hug. "Bye!" he yells as he runs back to his mother, she gives him a smile and then continues walking. Cas smiles, feeling a tiny bit of worry fall away. 

"Castiel novak?" a women calls, heads lifting to her and then dropping again. Cas stands, and so does Gabriel, the women spotting them and making her way over. She's tall, a little more full body type, blonde, blue eyes. She looks tired too, dark circles under her eyes, and a coffee cup in her hand, along with a clipboard in the other. "You must be Castiel." she says, dropping her cup into a nearby garbage and holding out a hand. He takes her soft hand in his, and shakes "Yes." he replies, gesturing over to Gabriel, and dropping his hand from hers. "And this is my brother Gabriel." He says, Gabe taking her hand and shaking it. "Skyler Baret. I am the one of taking care of your.." She wonders off, looking between the two. "friend." Cas replies quickly, at the same time Gabriel says "Cas' boyfriend."

He throws a glare over to Gabriel, embarrassment heating his face. This is the first time anyone's said that out loud, boyfriend, sounds….perfect. "Yes." He agrees. She nods "If you guys would follow me to my office, I can tell you more there." She says completely serious, waving for them to follow. Cas' heart drops, that's not a good sign. 

They follow the doctor's quick steps down the brightly lit hallway. Her blonde ponytail sways above her shoulders, and her coat blows behind her long legs. Nurses still give him weary looks as they walk, and some even refuse to make eye contact. It doesn't help the twisting feeling in his gut, or the millions of thoughts running through his head. Any number of things could have happened to Dean, and he hasn't even been told if the doctors were able to stabilize him. For all Cas knows, Dean could be dead.

Skyler stops in front of a large white door, one that matches the rest of the doors lining the hallway. It looks like the rest except for the metal plaque that hang in the middle of this particular one. Words engraved across it reading Dr. Baret. She opens the door, and holds out a welcoming hand for both him and Gabriel to come in. 

A strong cinnamon scent mixed with coffee hits him when he steps into the small office. Him and Gabriel both sit on the black leather chairs across from the brown desk. While Skyler moves to sit in her office chair, on the opposite side of the desk. She stacks some folders that were scattered across the top, and stacks them in a neat pile before pushing them to the side. 

Cas looks nervously around the room, recognizing some of the books sitting on the book shelf against the wall. He is snapped back to the women when she clears her throat and begins to speak. "You should now that we haven't really been able to stabilize Dean just yet. He is still having Shortness of breath, and is not fully aware or responsive." She pauses, letting out a long exhale. Her eyes fall to her hands above the desk for a moment, then raise again when she begins to talk. There is a coldness there, a void of emotion. "We have not found the cause of this yet. Or been able to find what exactly is wrong with Dean." Cas squints and clenches his hands against his lap.

"But, we do know that this was more than just a panic attack. This is something much more." She explains, leaning forward in her chair, and switching her eyes back to Cas and then over to Gabe. "We wou-" Skyler looks down at her belt, were the loud beeping noise is coming from, and raises her hand to signal one second. "Shit." she huffs under her breath, and stands from her chair. "will you excuse me for a minute." her voice is more of a statement than a question. Before Cas can argue she is out the door and walking down the hallway. 

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TBC.  
>  
>  
>>> "Don't wait until it's too late to tell someone how much you love, how much you care. Because when their gone, no matter how loud you shout and cry, they wont hear you anymore."


	25. White walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's not very long...but enjoy!

He can't breath.

He can't move.

His wrists are bound beside him, against metal, and his ankles are secured at the bottom of the bed. He can hear people talking, but can't make out any of what's being said. There are people rushing around the room, he can only see the blury out lines of their bodies. His chest moves rapidly, his eyes seem to roll back in his head the longer he is denied oxygen. Nothing is coming in, or out, just choked noises, and failed attempts to breath. He jumps back from a pair of hands against him, struggles more. He doesn’t know where he is, or who these people are. Did Alastair come back for him? 

Another hand pries his mouth open, even as he desperately tries to close it again. It seems he has no control over his body, that's when he realizes that his limbs start to shake uncontrollably. His arms are let loose and the restraints holding his legs are removed. Just when he thinks it's over, he is flipped onto his side, and there are pillows placed in front of the metal bars. He shakes harder, nothing under his control any longer. His eyes fall shut, and his lungs still refuse to work, making everything that much worse. Everything goes black for a second, quiet taking over the loud noises from before. And then Dean is peaceful, and he can breath, the weight on his shoulders gone. His chest is light, and his life doesn't seem so complicated anymore.

Then his body jolts again. 

And suddenly everything horrible returns in an instant. His breath ragged and short, barely enough for him not to slip under again. He is on his back again, and his mouth is being forced open once more. Dean tries his hardest to figure things out, but nothing works, and his eyes don't focus. He isn't even sure if his eyes are open, or if this is even real at all. Before he can do anymore but choke, there is something cold and rubbery being shoved down his throat. He instinctively chokes on it, and tries to push it out. 

But stops, when his chest rises and air filters in. with a couple sweet breaths, the blackness takes over.  
…

"We would like to run some tests on Dean. To figure out exactly what is going on." The doctor explains when she returns more than a half hour later. She looked a little more frazzled when she returned, not bothering to explain or apologize. Witch Cas doesn't mind, he just wants to know about Dean.

"This can take up to three weeks, depending on what we find, and how hard it is to find." She continues, keeping her eyes trained on them. "I would also like to do a CAT scan, just in case we miss anything." Cas nods that he understands.

"When can I see him?" he asks. She raises her head higher at that, and leans forward towards him. "Honestly, I can probably sneak you in for a while tonight. We just don't want people around him until he is stable." She huffs, and lowers her eyes. "But I'm going to break the rules for you. Because I have been in your position before." Cas smiles a little for thanks, and gets one in return. 

"I really appreciate it." he answers a while after, when the room plummets into silence. She gives a sad smile, and looks at the gold watch on her thin wrist. "I better get going." She stands, shaking both of their hands again. "I will come find you when Dean is able to have visitors." Cas nods, and moves towards the door, opening it, and letting the blonde haired lady step through first. Gabriel and him follow behind, and she locks her office door, then disappears down the hallway with a small wave.

"Back to waiting." Gabriel states, the tiredness leaking into his words. Cas nods in return, with a frown. He doesn't want to wait. He wants to be there with Dean…

They walk back to the waiting room in silence. The hallways have cleared a little, since it was almost one in the morning. And the lights have dimmed, making everything seem gloomy and sad. Which, doesn't help Castiel's mood at all. 

Gabriel sits first, resting his elbows on his knees, then his face in his hands. With a puff of air Cas turns around and begins walking back down the hallway. He can't take waiting around in that room any longer. He can't take smelling the cleaner, staring at the white walls with paintings of nature along them. And he cannot take listening to the same commercial one more time. But most of all he can’t take anymore looks from the nurses, they're silent apologies and the hidden secrets no one seems to be willing to tell him. He doesn't seem to care if Gabriel wants to know where he's going, he kind of forgot about him completely. His mind is so fuzzy, it's like walking through sinking sand. 

So he keeps walking, not paying any attention as to where, or why, but just walking. It is almost like he isn't really seeing anything or hearing anything either, like he is locked away in his head with all of his thoughts. Nothing but worry and anger eating it's way through his skin. Yet, he continues down the hallway, just the tiniest glimmer of hope still left. Dean is okay, and he will be okay, he has been through much worse and many more wars, all a lot more extreme than this. So yes, Cas does keep what's left of his hope close to his chest. And he will fight anyone who tries to take it away from him. 

No one dares to stop him, from the way he looks? It's probably a good thing. There is still blood across his white shirt, and his apron is a mess and wrinkled as hell. Not to mention his bleeding knuckles, and the scowl he keeps pasted to his usually soft features. He walks with purpose, even though he has no idea where he is going. The memories of tonight flashing through his mind. Who knew he could punch that hard? Or even knock the man out with one blow. And the way he talked to the police officer? Tonight is no night to fuck with Castiel. 

He realizes, though, that this is always how he has acted when it involves Dean. Something in him snaps, like he is being taken over. And most of the time, everything goes black, and he doesn't remember what he did until the next morning. Dean is the whole reason Cas becomes protective, a little over protective. But it was like that the very first time he saw Dean. That first night in the bar, something just clicked, and Dean was his responsibility, his. Period. There was no one else that could, or can, take that away from him, not now, and not ever. 

Cas shivers violently, and realizes he is now outside. For whatever reason, he keeps walking, ignoring the fact that he has no jacket and it's freezing outside. He walks until he can't feel his arms, nose, or ears. Some people on the street look at him suspiciously, but don't say a thing. There is a little coffee shop he finds a block down, small, and warm. It looks cozy, and like it may be old as well. The door jingles when he steps inside, the warmth surrounding him, and the smell of coffee and muffins hitting his nose. He clenches his jaw and breathes out, letting his body relax into the warmth. There are small round tables with matching antique chairs, only two, because of how small the place is. The walls are a mustard color, dim with time, and adding to the cozy feeling. 

He can see a stand, that matches the tables and chairs, the shelves covered in little crafts for sale, and packages of coffee brands. The older lady behind the counter watches him with a smile as he looks at the shelf. She has a pair of glasses, and a sweater on, one that looks homemade. Behind her is a menu of all kinds of coffee, and in the glass counter, there are the best looking muffins, cupcakes, cookies, and pie he has ever seen. He walks up towards the counter, and smiles towards the sweet woman. Gabriel would probably like some coffee, and he knows for sure that he would take something sugary too. It will help take their minds off of things. 

So he orders some coffee, a muffin for Gabriel, and heads back to the hospital. Making a mental note to bring Dean here and get him some pie…

It turns out that he walked almost halfway across town, about a half hour from the hospital. He didn't even think he walked for that long, or let alone was gone that long, but turns out he did and he was. 

He walks the whole way back shivering, and hoping the coffee is a little warm by the time he gets back. Cold coffee doesn’t sound all that great right now. 

When he does come back, Gabriel doesn't ask where he has been, or even so much as glance at him. He looks tired, the way he slouches in the chair, and the way his eyes droop, but also looks stressed out. Cas sits down next to him, then offers the luke warm coffee with a gentle smile. And then hands Gabriel the small brown bag with the muffin inside, at that he gets a smile in return. Gabe wastes no time in tearing the bag open, and downing the muffin. Cas shakes his head, and takes a sip of his coffee. And if it isn't the best damn coffee Castiel has ever tasted. 

His eyes scan the room, everything still dull and quiet. 

"Any news?" He asks, his voice more of a wreck than he would have liked. His brother glances at him, and takes a sip of his coffee. "Not yet." He responds in an equally wrecked voice. Everything falls silent once again, as they both return to watching the people pass by.  
….

It's nearly three in the morning by the time Skyler makes another appearance. Gabriel went home a while ago, thanking Cas for the muffin, and wishing him good luck. So now he sits alone in the waiting room, until he sees the doctor. Cas stands as quickly as he can, when he sees her striding over to where he sit. She waves for him to follow, and she leads down another hallway. 

Cas can hear his heart in his ears, like he hasn't seen Dean for years, and this is the first time he gets to see him again. He knows it is just worry, wanting to see him, see that he is okay and breathing. But he can't stop worrying until he sees him for himself. 

Before he knows it, they stop in front of a door, and she gestures for him to go in. But before he goes she puts a hand on his shoulder, and looks at him with a serious but sad expression. "You should be warned, that it isn't good. And you don't have much time to see him. I will give you an hour, maybe less. But only because you aren't supposed to be in there yet." Cas nods that he understands, and wastes no time opening the door and stepping inside. That's when his glimmer of hope is crushed.

Dean is unconscious, but doesn't look the same way that he does when he is sleeping. If you have every had an open casket at a funeral, and seen your loved one, that’s exactly how this feels, and it is exactly how Dean looks. Now that he lay under the harsh lights of the hospital, Cas notices things he never noticed before. Dean is skinny, sure he thought that before, but he wasn't clearly seeing then. Dean is really skinny, most of his bulk has been eaten away, when there was no more fat to be shed. His eyes are sunken, and there are purple circles under them. He also has a breathing tube in his throat, helping Dean stay stable. Worst part is hearing him breath, even though he is asleep, his breaths are short and raspy sounding. 

He takes a deep breath, smelling the weird hospital scents, and then steps forward. Not that Dean would jump back if he were to move to fast, but, for his own sake. Cas can't take seeing Dean like this….so vulnerable, it's killing him. So he is slow approaching Dean, scared to see or hear any more than he has to. Eventually his knees hit the bed, and he stares down with wide eyes. Dean seems to sense something, because he breaths in extra deep. The horrible raspy sound getting louder, and choked off at the end. 

 

He stands still for a long time, for what seems like forever….Watching Dean, and holding his breath whenever he hears an extra nasty breath for air from Dean below him. He almost forgets to breath again after a couple moments. He has no idea how to deal with this, or where to begin. So he takes a chair, and slides it close to Dean's bedside. 

Sitting down, he finds Dean's cold hand (Probably from lack of oxygen) And holds it tightly in his own. At first, he can't look at him, can't bare seeing him like this. But as time passes he finds himself running his hand down Dean's cheek, and not being able to remove his eyes. Everything he loves and lives for is right in front of him, suffering, and he can't do a thing to help him. 

He has no idea how much time passes.

Tap, tap, tap.

The door opens, but Cas keeps his eyes on Dean, all that matters now is Dean. 

"I'm sorry, but your going to have to come back tomorrow to see him again." Skyler says In hushed voice behind him.

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>>> "Never be sad for what is over, just be glad that it was once yours."


	26. denial.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the comments and kudos given!

Cas' car roars to life, the noise sounding to loud in the dark. He shivers from the cold outside, turning his heater on full blast. He sits there for a moment, staring, the hospital's lights seem too bright. And the building eerily feels dead, like it is long abandoned. His breath blows fog into the empty space, were Dean should be sitting, the passenger seat. Cas takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to rid the weight on his chest. Swallowing thickly, he opens his eyes again, just as the first tear slips down his cheek. Feels like ice slowly making it's way to his chin, then dropping off and onto his pants. 

This shouldn't have happened, Dean should be here, not him. He fought so hard for Dean to be here, he fought and was tricked into thinking he won. Funny….he was positive that everything was going to be okay, the he and Dean would finally be happy. And he knows damn well that Dean doesn't deserve this, or anything that has happened so far. Castiel would give anything, anything, for Dean to see that. For one good thing to come from this mess, the hell he lived through to be erased, for it to be okay again. 

Sad thing is, is Cas knows that this is something big, and it's not going away just because he wants it too. He knows that Dean is not okay, and by the way he looked in there, he's not going to be. Which is tearing at him, even just by thinking that. But all he can do is hope that Dean will be okay, and this is just another bump in the road. In the end, all we have is hope. 

He breathes as more tears drip down his face, swallowing the ever growing lump in his throat. He is going to stay strong for Dean, he thinks, for Dean. He wipes the tears from his eyes, and pulls away from the hospital. 

He runs the stop sign at the end of the road, his tires squealing as he takes a left. The headlights from a truck blinds his left side, a loud horn sounding right next to his small car. Cas slams his foot down on the gas, hanging his middle finger out the window. Swerving until he is in the right lane, then watches the truck disappear in his rearview mirror. He swears under his breath, then bursts out laughing. Not because he is happy though, but because he is confused, sad, angry, reckless…

He breaths in deep once again, and takes off down the dark road. Street lights come into view as he keeps driving straight ahead. Then, the buildings, the tall one's, small one's, and the houses squished in between. He passes some familiar, and some he has never seen before. Not quite sure were he is going just yet, and not really paying any attention either. All he knows, is that there is no way he is going home, not yet. There is way too many emotions rolling hot off of him, and he can't sit still any longer than he has too. 

He does, however, stop when the light turns red, he is in no mood for those blue flashing lights. His leg shakes while he waits, for what seems to be the longest fucking light of his life. Cars stop behind him, and people cross the cross walk. He wonders what would happen if he let go of the break? Hit someone maybe, would he feel any better? Cas shakes that horrible thought out of his head. And is brought back to reality when the cars behind him honk. He looks up, green light. Without any more thought he speeds through it, taking his next right, to avoid the next red light. 

He pulls over when he sees the sign for 'beer', not paying attention as to where, or what else the sign lists. Leaving the car parked crooked, he makes his way inside. First thing that hits him, the smell, it smells like perfume and liquor. Second thing, is the amount of half dressed women walking around, and dancing. He realizes that he just stumbled into a strip bar, and can't find a single fuck to give. So Cas makes his way over to a booth, near the back wall, and sits on the red leather seats. A women comes up to him, the waitress, he guesses, she is short, brown hair. She is wearing nothing but a swimsuit, a pink bikini to be exact. 

Her voice is sweet, but a kind that says I'm here to work so don't fuck with me. And for some odd reason Cas thinks is incredibly hot, probably because Dean has that kind of attitude… Cas orders the strongest thing they have, and tries to keep his head down. The "entertainers" are distracting as hell, and Cas is incredibly uncomfortable. The blonde working across the bar keeps eyeing him, in a way that he does not at all like, by the way. And by the time his server comes back he is relieved to have an distraction. 

He downs the few shots that he ordered quickly, then starts to work on the normal sized drink. 

Before he knows it, he is swaying and light headed, being hit on by the blonde from earlier. She grinds on his lap, as he leans back against the seat. By this point, he is way to drunk to care about this girl on top of him. And his body is over heated with alcohol, the way he feels is….weird. Cas lets her grind down again, and again, until his pants feel to tight, and his mind is to fuzzy to comprehend. She doesn't seem to notice though, only moves her hips more roughly against his crotch. 

He licks his lips, and tilts his head back, closing his eyes. God this feels good…..

The glitter flutters from her blonde hair, and on to his shirt and pants. The smell of her sweet perfume filing his nose. He imagines that this would be so much better with Dean. With that thought his eyes snap open, what in the hell is he doing!? 

Dean.

Oh god Dean, he would be crushed if he knew what Cas was doing. 

The woman seems to notice something, and stands, looking down on Cas' crunched face. She shakes her head, and holds out a hand. He tilts his head at that, until he realizes what she is doing. He digs in his pocket, and pulls out the first bill he can find, a fifty, and hands to her. With that she smiles, and turns away. Cas almost completely forgot where he was for a second. 

He leaves a twenty on the table, and leaves.

… 

Turns out that it is harder than it looks to drive drunk. The lines of the road seem to keep moving, making it extremely hard to stay in between them. And the other cars are riding too close behind him, while he struggles to see how fast he is going. He tries not to pay any attention to it though, he just turns the radio up louder, and sings to himself the whole drive home. Doesn't matter if he knows the songs or not, he sings to them all. Most he does recognize, since the station was left on the one Dean likes. He likes the idea of Dean changing the station every time they take a drive. And he loves it when Dean sings along, even if he does try to hide it, Cas can always hear him. 

He pulls into his driveway just as some song by Led Zepplin ends. He takes notice that there is another car here, parked next to Gabriel's. And takes extra time in getting out slow, investigating the strange car. It's nearly 8 in the morning by now, so the sun is up, and some of his neighbors are giving him strange looks. But he cant help but wonder who would be here, and why. Taking one last look, he stumbles inside, and takes the elevator to his floor. There is no way he could have taken the stairs, like he usually does, not in this condition. He can't remember the last time he was this drunk, or if he has ever been this drunk. 

Swaying down the hallway, he digs for his keys in his pocket, cursing when his phone flops out and onto the floor. He bends to pick it up, and then his keys fall out of his pocket, just as he is standing back up. Another curse, he bends to pick those up as well. He loses balance when he stands again, he has to reach out and steady himself against the wall. Laughing at himself, he walks up to their apartment door. He expects to see Dean lounging on the couch when he walks inside, he has become so used to having him here. It feels wrong when all he sees is an empty room.

"cas?" Gabriel calls, his voice emerging from the kitchen. He walks through the doorway, flipping the light on as he goes. Cas squints at the sudden brightness, groaning in frustration. "What the hell?" Gabriel breathes, stepping closer to a swaying Castiel. "Are you…" he pauses, then laughs. "Are you drunk?" he finishes, throwing an arm around Cas' shoulder and leading him towards the kitchen. He doesn't answer, because he is pretty damn sure that it is obvious. By the way he stumbles, and slurs, as Gabe leads him in the kitchen. 

There Cas sees Sam sitting at the table, his hair is a mess, and he looks exhausted. He barely looks up at Cas when he plops down on the chair across from him. "I suspect Gabriel has already told you everything." He states, trying to keep his voice steady. "Yes." he whispers back, peeking through his hair at Cas. He frowns in return, lowering his tilting gaze to the table.

Silence takes over after that, leaving the sound of Sam sniffling, and Gabriel sipping coffee. Cas doesn't think anything else can get worse than it already is. The anticipation is killing him, waiting for anything on Dean, and not knowing what's going to happen next. Worst thing is, he is powerless, there is no way to help, and no way to fight for him. He's a sitting duck, and it's driving him insane. Turn's out that things can get much worse.

….

Sleeping that night proves to be the worst night of sleep he has ever gotten. By the time the sun pokes in through his blinds, he realizes that he never really slept. It was one of those nights were you aren't sure whether you even got any sleep, but there are small chunks of the night missing where you must've dozed off. He was too busy thinking, or more likely, running through all of his memories. Trying his best to figure out were he went wrong, and when all of this happened to Dean. But, by the time it's morning, he hasn't come up with anything reasonable. 

He barely makes it out of bed when he hears the phone ringing. As soon as he stands, he feels the effect of a hangover, a severe one at that. Swaying, he pushes through his bedroom, and into the kitchen, to where the phone sits next to his keys. Fumbling with his phone for a moment, before he is able to press answer. He is immediately greeted with a sweet voice on the other side. "How are you this morning Castiel?" Skyler speaks, loudly, but distracted by something else. 

Her voice sends a uncomfortable twitch through his headache. "Could be better. How are you?" He mumbles in reply, adding the last bit to be polite. "Good." her voice echo's, as some other talking goes on with someone with her. She clears her throat, and then puts her doctor voice on as she speaks again. "Dean has been stabilized, and has finally woken up." Cas almost falls over from the statement, surprise catching him off guard. Choking on his own spit, then clearing his throat, he laughs out in relief. "That's great, how's he doing?" 

"Good, he's doing just fine. Although we couldn’t quiet figure out how. He wasn't supposed to wake up for another couple of days." He laughs again, Realizing now that he is crying. "You've got a fighter." She finishes. Running his hands through his hair, then down his face, he wipes some tears away. "Good.." he whispers, mostly to himself. Good. Damn right he has a fighter, Dean has fought his whole life, there is no excuse to stop now.

"That doesn't mean we are out of the maze though, not yet. We still need to know what caused this." Just like that his heart drops, along with his mood. He forgot all about that, he was just thinking of Dean being okay that he actually forgot about the big reason he is there. Something's wrong, and they still need to figure it out.

…

He blinks his eyes open, for what seems like forever, everything is dark, too dark. He's in the basement again, judging from the coldness of the air, and the dark thick air. He goes stiff, and squeezes his eyes shut, trying his hardest to wake up from this horrible nightmare. If it is a nightmare? What if Alastair did come back for him, what if he is being punished again. There's shifting beside him, then footsteps, his eyes fly open, and attempt to see. He doesn't hold back, he immediately begins to cry and beg for forgiveness. "please…I'm sorry." He admits with shortness of breath. His entire chest burning with each ragged breath.

"I s-s-shouldn-n't ha-ave ever done-e-" He cuts off, the air becoming to thin as he drags it in. His body jerks when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He pulls, but finds himself handcuffed to the bed, which makes him squeeze his eyes shut tight, and turn his face away. "P-p-ple-e-ease" he stutters out, the entire pillow beneath him already soaked with tears. He knows that begging makes it worse, but that doesn’t mean that it wont work some of the time. Once Alastair realizes what he's doing, Dean thinks, then he'll stop. He loves Dean, so why wouldn't he stop, now that this is wrong.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. Just calm down."

The voice he hears isn't Al's though.

It's Cas'.

That's when everything comes rushing back. The hospital, the accident, Cas.


	27. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated. I have been super busy lately. Anyway I hope your still with me. It's not nearly as long as I would have hoped, but I didn't want to wait any longer to post for you guys.

Cas begins to doze off while he rests his head on the edge of the bed. His fingers tightly laced with Deans, to provide comfort if he wakes again. It took him almost an hour to calm Dean from whatever nightmare, or horrible things he was thinking when Cas walked in earlier that day. And it still hurts a little to think that Dean thought he was Alastair. The man had left such a gaping wound, that Cas has really no idea were to begin healing him. Not that Dean would ever really forget the things Alastair did, but maybe his constant nightmares would calm, and possibly one day completely stop. 

There isn't any other man he would love to destroy more than Alastair. He can just imagine the amazing feeling he would get for being the one to destroy him, to rip his world down around him just the same as he did Dean's. Castiel isn't usually one for revenge, never has been, but he would make an exception for Alastair. He knows that isn't something he can do though, because no matter how much he tortured Dean, Dean would never forgive Castiel if he would to rid Alastair from this earth. Castiel's not completely clueless, he knows Dean is still in love with Alastair. 

He doesn't understand, and he doesn't intend to, ever. 

He looks over to were Dean is still sleeping, the iv and wires hanging from all around him. Other then the circumstances they are in, Dean looks peaceful. If it weren't for the monitors recording his heartbeat, he would think he was dead, with how still Dean has been over the last hour. His breathing is raspy, like when you have a bad cold, the sound of it lulling him. He is in a state where he's not really awake, but not really asleep either. Everything is fuzzy and soft around the edges, all of this mess floating someplace far away. 

Cas closes his eyes once more, letting it all fall further away. He realizes how tired he is then, seeming how he hasn't slept for a couple days, and even when he did sleep it was restless fit full sleep. He drifts more, lets the rest he was holding on to fall away. 

Dreams aren't far from the welcomed darkness.

…

He's shaken awake, a loud shrilling noise filling the space around him, his head spinning in confusion. His senses slowly all come awake, and that's when he realizes where he is. The sound of the machines are different from before, making louder sounds, shrilling noises. He also notices how Dean's breathing has changed along with everything else. He's gasping now, clutching blindly at anything his hands can find. And when Cas finally opens his eyes, and looks, he is shocked. Those green eyes are unseeing and wide, staring up at the ceiling. The only thing he can tell from them is the fear clutching Dean, while he struggles to breath. 

"Dean?" he whispers, already standing up in panic, knocking the chair back against the wall. Dean doesn't answer, just continues to gasp, and clutch the sheets beneath him. Cas trips on the chair on his way to the door, nearly falling face first into the hard white floor of the hospital. 

He flings the door open, and is met instantly by a doctor, and some nurses rushing in past him. Skyler starts to bark out orders as soon as she steps inside the room past Castiel. He turns to walk in after them, and is pushed back by a larger women. 

"Sir, I need you to calm down. And wait out here while we attend to him." She sounds calm, too calm, like this has happened before. But there is a underlying firmness in her tone, that makes him stop pushing towards the room and stand still. He refuses to meet her eyes though, looking past her shoulder, and trying to see what they are doing to Dean. She catches his gaze and follows it, she simply turns, and closes the door. Cutting all site of Dean off.

"Sir." she says again, louder this time.

Cas pulls himself out of whatever he was in, and finally looks down at the women. She is short, shorter than him at least, and a little heavier than the other nurses. Her hair is dark brown, same as her eyes, which are watching Castiel closely, She looks at him like he is going to fight his way in to see Dean, which really, isn't a terrible idea. But he imagines it’s because the way he looks, he's breathing hard, and has adrenaline pumping through his body, ready to fight whoever threatens Dean. 

He feels sharp stabs in his palms, from where his hands are clenched into fists. She follows his gaze down to his hands, and he lets his body relax letting out a slow wavery breath as his shoulders hunch and his hands uncurl. Blood trickles from the inside of his palms, where his blunt nails dug into his flesh, the red dripping onto the floor. 

Shows that he has no control what's so ever when it comes to Dean. 

"sir." she repeats, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looks up from his hands to the nurse standing in front of him. When she finds she has his attention she sighs, and grabs a hold of his wrist, leading him down the hallway. He is a little reluctant to move away from where Dean is, but soon gives up and lets her lead the way to another room. 

The room is smaller than the others, more like a supply room than an actual normal sized hospital room. There are two metal stools, along with a long counter against the right wall. Cupboards cover most of the walls, and most of them have labels on them. 

She flips on the light, and leads Cas over to one of the stools, the one farthest from the counter on the left. Then she starts to gather supplies to bandage his hands up. 

The whole time she fixes him up Cas thinks about Dean. The way he was clearly in so much pain was kind of a surprise. He knew he was sick, but he didn't realize just how sick until now. It's even worse that the doctors haven't figured out what is wrong with him. 

And maybe it has something to do with Alastair? Or maybe even the way Dean has been throwing up after panics. He doesn’t know, has no clue as to what could cause this. Only thing he has to worry about is Dean being okay, in the end that is all he cares about. Because if Cas loses Dean….no.

He can't even think about that.

"Alright all finished." The nurse lets go of his hand, and stands to put everything away. He hadn't noticed just how badly his hands had been bleeding, judging from the bloody gauze it must have been pretty bad. He examines his wrapped up palms, before raising his eyes. "Thank you." He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear. To be honest he's a little embarrassed of the way he acted in there.

"No problem hun." she replies giving Cas a warm smile over her shoulder. She shuts the last cupboard, and turns around crossing her arms over her chest blinking down at Cas. He can’t read her expression, but he is pretty sure it's something he is not willing to discuss right now. 

"You okay?" that was the last thing he was expecting her to say. He lowers his head, and tangles his hand in his hair, that's a difficult question to answer. He knows he's not okay, ever since he met Dean his world has been turned upside down. The worst part is he doesn't know what's coming next, never has, and it's driving him mad. Spending this last week not knowing what was coming next, or what is still going to come. 

…

 

It takes an hour for Dean to be stable enough for company. In the time that Cas waits, he finds the same coffee shop down the street, and goes for a small walk around the neighborhood. 

When he comes back, he's not surprised that Dean is once again sleeping. He has a mask on his face again, one that helps his breathing. Cas also understands that during the time he was gone, they ran some more tests, including x rays of his chest. Skylar said the results should be in by tomorrow, and she would let him now if they find anymore out about Dean's situation. 

He takes the chair he was sitting on yesterday and scoots it over closer to the bed. Sitting his coffee cup on the stand next to Deans side. And sits down, taking a hold of the one hand that's not covered in wires or needles, lacing his fingers with Deans cold slender one's. He has been dying to talk to Dean for a while now, and is a little disappointed that he's sleeping. But he knows how much he needs it, from all that’s happened lately, and just by looking at him. He never knew it was possible to look exhausted in your sleep. It's nothing like the other night, when he looked peaceful and at rest. 

Everyday they wait for results, while Dean gets more and more sickly looking.

Cas lets his gaze wonder over Dean's freckled face, form his flickering eyelids, to his stublled jaw, to the way his lips are turned downward into a frown. He has never noticed just how many freckles Dean has, his skin pale enough for them to stand out against the harsh hospital light. All the bruises Alastair has left on his body gone, scars still there to haunt Dean of his past. He notices the newest scar of them all on Deans outstretched throat, it's barely noticeable, two curved lines close together, the top scar curving slightly down, and the bottom curving up, both almost touching on the edges. Cas squints his eyes, and leans forward, it almost looks like……..like, like a bite mark. He runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes, of course it's a fucking bite mark. The most fitting mark of property from Alastair.

Alastair.

Cas wonders where Alastair is now….He never even thought about it before. He never even checked to see where he ended up, never really cared. But he could easily be out of jail, he could even have been judged not guilty. Shit. What the hell will Castiel do if he is out there somewhere? If the man ever comes close to Dean, Cas will kill him. That monster has no right to ever see Dean again, shouldn't even be aloud in the same state.

He pulls out his cell phone, and texts Sam. 

*Has there been any news on Alastair?* 

Not even a couple seconds later his phone buzzes in his hand. He opens the message.

*Not much, why?*

He thinks about that for a moment, he does think he would want to know if that man is out there somewhere. At least then he can protect Dean, be on the watch for him. 

*Just curious. I would really like to know where he is, so I can keep track of him.*

He looks back up to Dean, rubbing his thumb over his bony knuckles. His phone buzzes a couple minutes later.

*Looks like he's still awaiting trial.* 

He doesn't mean to growl, but is unable to stop the sound from escaping his throat. He squeezes his phone until blood starts to seep through his bandages. Of course the bastard found a way to make this be drawn out. He probably has a good case, and has hiddin away all of the evidence. Probably had his friends testify, and help the scheme even stronger. If Alastair does manage to convince them that he's not guilty, then he has Cas to deal with when he comes back. 

Dean's hand suddenly pulls back from his grip, a hiss sounding in the quiet room. Cas startles and looks up to find Dean staring at him, eyes wide, and mouth pulled into a frown. He rubs at the hand Cas had a hold of, cradling it to his chest. Cas let's the grip on his phone loosen, wincing at just how hard he had been holding it. He realizes that he had been grabbing Dean's hand just as hard. 

"Oh, Shhi…..Dean. I'm so sorry." He starts forward, reaching out for him. And then stops. Did Dean just? Did he just flinch back from him? Cas clenches his jaw, a pang of guilt cracking through his chest, and sits back down. He lowers his head into his hands, Deep breaths. He is so absorbed that he barely hears Dean speak, ever so softly. 

"It's okay." He whispers, lowering his hand back to the bed. Cas raises his eyes, frowning slightly at just how sick and tired Dean looks. Before he can begin to apologize again, Dean speaks "What was that all about?" He asks sitting up as much as possible before he starts to cough. A rattling raspy sound, with desperate gasps for air in between. Only then does Cas notice the mask isn't on and stands to place it back where it belongs. 

"You need to take it easy." Cas whispers, once the coughing stops, running a hand through Dean's sweat slicked hair. He closes his green eyes, and takes a deep steadying breath, relaxing a little at Cas' voice against his pillow. "You still haven't answered my question." Dean huffs breathlessly, his eyes drooping a little. Cas smiles a little, removing his hand from Dean's hair, and sitting back down in his chair. 

"It was nothing." he answers, continuing when he sees the disapproving look he gets. "I'm just worried about you." Which is the truth, just not the full truth. Dean looks away then, rolling the blanket in his fingers. "What?" Cas asks, suddenly worrying that Dean knows something, but isn't telling him.

Dean looks back to Cas, locking eyes with him "What have the doctors found out?" 

Cas frowns more "Nothing yet." He answers in a low voice, furrowing his brow. Dean swallows, and nods, looking out the window on the other side of the room. "Why? What's wrong?" he asks, a little more demanding and insistent. 

"I'm tired." Dean states, resting his head more firmly on the pillow. 

Of course he's going to avoid answering. Cas takes a couple of deep breaths, before sighing "Yeah, okay. You should get some rest." Dean rolls his head back towards Cas, and opens his eyes, scooting towards the far edge. "will you lay by me?" He whispers, hazy eyes focused on cas.   
.  
.

.

.

"The trouble is, you think you have time."


	28. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK its been a while since I have posted, and I apologize for that. And I want to thank you all for your comments, sadly I cannot answer to them. I wouldn't want to give anything away now would I? Anyway I hope you are enjoying this!:)

Dean wakes to a small knocking on his hospital room door. He let's his eyes adjust to the brightness of the curtains being open. Then sits himself up as much as possible without hurting himself any further, and scans the room around him. Cas isn't here anymore, must have snuck out after Dean fell asleep.

It shouldn't, but it gives him anxiety when Cas isn't somewhere nearby. And after their conversation last night, he's reminded of just how dangerous his life can be without Cas. Usually he wouldn't be concerned, but now that he's so vulnerable, he kind of is. Because if someone were to come in and attack him, he wouldn't be strong enough or capable of protecting himself.

Not that he doesn't have a lot of time left any way.

"Is It okay if I come in?" asks a smaller lady, poking her head through the door. He nods, and goes back to looking around the room. Her red ponytail bounces when she walks over to him, a tray in hand. She smiles when she catches Dean's eye, and sets the tray down on the bedside table. "I brought you some food, thought you might be pretty hungry seeming as how you haven't eatin' since you got here." she smiles again, pushing the small table over so it sits across his lap.

He returns the smile, and immediately picks up the plastic fork and begins eating. All of it is tasteless, but food none the less. 

"Oh!" she claps her hands together, shooting an apologetic look his way when he jumps back. "I almost forgot…" she trails off exiting the room. "Someone dropped these off for you." Dean looks to the roses she holds in her hands, his brow furrowing. Who would drop off flowers? 

"They also brought your food as well." She smiles, shrugging. "I know how bad the hospital food is here."

Dean musters a small smile, even though his insides are twisting all over the place. "Thanks." he whispers back after a couple moments of silence. He pushes the small table of food away, all apatite lost, and grabs the flowers the woman holds out to him. The woman honestly looks confused, but lets it go and leaves the room. He lets a shaky breath out, and lifts up the flowers. They aren't your normal roses, these are black, with one single red rose stuck in the middle of them. Dean swallows when he sees the card connected to the stems, also black. He opens it with shaky fingers.

The writing is in a dark red marker, in neat cursive.

Love, Alastair.

Fuck.

This is his revenge, Alastair is still after him. He knows a threat when he sees one, and this? This is definitely a threat. No. It's more like a promise. Alastair is promising to get revenge. This is his sick way of telling Dean he doesn't love him any more, that he is planning something. 

Something breaks then inside of him, one of the last things he was holding close to his heart. Alastair doesn’t love him anymore. 

He thought he was over him, he was sure this war was over, but turns out he isn't, and it's only just begun. How many times can the man rip Dean's heart out? When will he ever learn that loving Al is all just a big mistake. He can't get it through his head, always believing that this will get better, that he will be happy. For once he needs to think for himself.

But, he can't.

And he never will. 

It has always been about making everyone else happy. Pleasing Alastair always felt great, it warmed him from the inside out. 

But this? This means it's over, that he failed to keep Al happy. It also means that he needs to be ready for a fight. That he can't be in this damn hospital anymore. 

He breathes out an extra slow breath. Tears are already stinging his eyes, and blurring out his vision. He squeezes his numb fingers around the thorns of the roses. And watches the blood roll down his knuckles, dripping onto the black card and soaking in. The sound of his heart monitor is far away, becoming long drawn out screams as it echoes around his room. 

He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels the attack coming. Breathing get's shorter, and chest gets tighter, along with uncontrollable shaking limbs.

Right before darkness takes over, he hears the flowers drop to the floor.   
………………………………………..

It's another two hours before Cas is aloud to see Dean. He got a call from the doctor saying that Dean had another panic attack. And immediately left the house, along with a panicky Sam in his passenger seat. Sam didn't calm down either, not until the nurses told them it was okay to see Dean again. Being there with Sam, when he saw his brother for the first time since he got sick….Lets just say it's something Cas never wants to do again. He thought he was wrecked, but Sam? Sam is way worse than him. 

As soon as they walked into the room, and Sam laid eyes on his brother. His knees buckled from underneath him, and he kneeled next to Dean's unconscious body while he cried. Sam cried for almost an hour, before calming down. 

Now he sits in the chair placed next to the window, staring, and silent. While Cas sits in his usual spot, next to Dean's side. He can't hold his hand, not with all of the tiny cuts littering Dean's palms. So he just keeps his hands to himself, for Dean and Sam's sake. 

"Why would he send them?" Sam grits out, keeping his eyes trained out the window. Cas shakes his head "I don't know." he returns. 

"Alastair has to of had a reason for sending them!?" Sam growls back, flicking his fox like eyes around the room, and landing on the flowers Cas holds in his lap. Cas follows his gaze to the dark flowers, and furrows his brows. "Yes, he must've." He whispers back, letting his gaze wonder back up to Dean. "Don’t act like this isn't a big deal." Sam snaps, his eyes now on Cas. He lets his blue eyes travel over to Sam's, and shrugs. He clenches his jaw, and flicks his golden eyes back to the flowers. 

"You care about my brother?" Sam asks, his tone angry. "Don't you?" he taunts, swallowing with a glare. Cas huffs, and shifts in his seat. "Of course I Care about Dea-" He's cut off by a harsh laugh from Sam. Cas snaps his eyes back to Sam, squinting them impatiently. "I think your lying." Sam says, his jaw muscles twitching as he holds contact with Cas. "I am not lyi-." He begins, cut off by another huff. 

"Then why don't you act like it?" Sam growls, raising his eyebrows at Cas. Anger rises under Castiel's skin, of course he cares about Dean. "What do you mean?" He answers through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes locked on sam. "I mean, why don’t you do something about this?" He asks, raising his voice the slightest bit, gesturing around the room. Cas takes a deep breath "Sam, I'm try-." He's cut off again as Sam raises his voice more. "You." he clips out, glaring across the room at Castiel. "Aren’t doing a damn thing to help my brother." 

Anger boils under his skin, hotter than ever now. How dare Sam say that, Cas has done everything in his power to keep Dean safe. 

"If anything." Sam adds, his chair skidding as he stands up. "You are pulling the plug." 

Cas lets the flowers roll onto the floor as he stands as well. "I have done everything, and I mean everything, to keep him safe." His shaky hands clench into fists beside him. 

Sam laughs again, taking a step forward. "So what? Huh? Your just going to give up now?" Cas clenches his jaw, and fists, keeping his body steady. Sam's eyes flash with anger "You just going to let him die!?" 

He's full on yelling now, his broad shoulders straightening. Cas takes another breath in, and holds it before letting it out.

"Cas?" Dean croaks from beside him. Both men's attention switching over to Dean. Cas lets his fists unclench, his whole body relaxing at the sound of his voice. Dean's eyes are wide, his limbs tensed with the sense of danger. He reaches out blindly with a bloodied hand, beckoning Cas over to him. He lets his voice out in a soft coo "Yes, dean. It's me." 

Dean's body visibly relaxes, a small smile spreading across his tired lips. "Sam is her-" Cas begins, cut off by Dean's sharp intake of breath. "Sammy?" He whispers, smiling for a brief second. Wincing he puts his hand back down to the bed. His hazy green eyes scan the room, and lock onto Sam. Cas looks over his shoulder to Sam. The large man just standing there ,with a shocked, but warm expression. 

"Hi, Dean." He whispers after a moment, all anger dissipating. "Hey, Sam." Dean returns, a little to loud for his weakened lungs to take. Dean closes his eyes for a moment, his chest rising and falling a little to quickly. It only takes a moment for Dean to calm down again. And once he does Sam is by his side right away. 

The last thing Cas hears before he leaves is Sam mumbling about how much he has missed Dean. 

…

Cas heads straight home, leaving Sam some time with Dean. Gabriel seems to have been watching for him or something. Because as soon as he exits the elevator, Gabriel is there, hugging him. He lets his arms hang confusedly at his sides, while his brother squeezes the breath out of him. "Gabriel." he greets, half questioning as to what he thinks he is doing. He holds on a little while longer, before pulling back and searching Cas' face.   
Cas furrows his brows in confusion, and takes a step back to get more space between him and his brother. "Is Dean okay?" Gabriel asks shyly. That whips Cas' head back up, and to attention. "Dean's fine." He answers skeptically. 

Gabriel sighs in relief, offering a smile. "Good." Is all he says, before turning and heading into their apartment.

Cas follows his brother, and shuts the door behind him just as Gabe plops down on the couch. "what was that about?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest. Gabriel stiffens, and shakes his head. "There was a man here earlier." He explains. 

"A man? Who?" Cas demands, watching his brothers shoulders tense all over again. He sighs "Some ugly dude." is all he says. "What did he look like?" He clarifies, tilting his head to the side. "I don’t know." Gabriel huffs.

"Some guy with a Beard." He continues a moment later, shrugging.

Beard. Fucking Beard. The bastard that Cas knocked out at the bar. 

"What did he want?" he growls. Gabriel actually jumps at the tone of Cas' voice, twisting around on the couch. He shoots Cas a worried look. "Gabriel." he demands, his eyes narrowing.

"Geez, he just came by to ask about Dean." Gabriel shrugs again, raising an eyebrow at cas. 

"Why?" Gabe asks, grabbing a candy bar from the coffee table. Cas doesn't bother to answer him, and heads straight into his room. That man is no longer going to be a threat to Dean, not by the time he gets done with him.  
……  
.  
.  
.  
Sometimes I wonder what pure happiness is like  
Is it liquid and sleek?  
Does it pour into your body  
Like carbon monoxide?  
Does it hit you  
Like a train might  
While you lay on it's tracks?  
Does it hold you  
Keep you steady  
Like a noose around your neck?  
I wish I knew  
It would be to die for.


	29. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while ;) hope you are still with me. And I tried to make this one a little longer than usual. also warning for angst (I'm sorry) this wasn't my original plan, but this is how I worked it out. anyway you guys are awesome! and enjoy!

Rosco Villie, is Beards real name, he's a trucker, has a wife, and three children. Cas finds two counts of attempted rape on his file, one with a girl no older than 15, and the other with a boy in an alley behind a covenant store. Neither had enough evidence to put Rosco away, of course, but he got a pretty hefty fine and a sentence for therapy. There's also a mug shot from when they brought him in for some kind of disturbance complaint. He's a drop out, never finished high school, and has no relatives left to worry about him. It might be easier than Cas thought, no one but his wife and kids to worry about, and it's not like he can't fix that with a phone call or two. 

Best of all he will have his revenge, and no one will suspect a thing. All he needs is a favor from one of his old buddies, and for Bea- Rosco to show at the bar again. He will just make it look like an accident, after all, it can be a pretty dangerous job, being a trucker…Next time the man steps foot inside, Cas will get him, and then this will all be over. It has to be. 

By the time it hits midnight Cas has a plan.  
…..

He doesn't remember what time he went to sleep, or even remember falling asleep for that matter. But when he forces his eyes open his stomach rolls, and his head pounds. The sunlight cascading in through his windows is too bright, the blinds pulled all the way up. His lungs feel too tight, the air too thick to swallow down. He can barely move when he goes to sit up, legs and arms too sore and weak. When he finally manages to lift himself and prop his stiff body against the back of the bed, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. 

When he looks over he sees Sam, slumped in his chair, with a pained expression on his usually soft features. He also doesn't even remember ending the conversation with his brother. Everything, kind of, just….went black. 

Next to his brother, closer to the bed, closer to Dean, is Cas. Watching him with those intense stare-into-your-soul-eyes, and a faint forced smile on his face. The sunlight sends golden pieces through his dark mussed hair, and looks even more spectacular on his blue, blue eyes.

He can't help but think that he looks different somehow.

Dean gives a lazy smile back, and lets his gaze travel to the window on the other side of the room for a moment, before coming right back to Cas. 

"I have a surprise for you." Dean furrows his brows, and fiddles with the wires hanging from his body. "I think I have had enough surprises to last me a month, Cas." He shoots back, mostly kidding, but a part of him just a little dark. Cas snorts a laugh at him, and then continues. "I promise you'll like it." He states, smiling wide and bright. 

His eyes are a little wild as he stands. He purposely walks over to the window and shuts the curtains, darkness immediately takes over, the room almost to dark to see anything. He throws a smile over his shoulder as he turns and walks over to the door, closing it. Dean watches every movement he makes with curiosity.

It's when he hears the click of the lock on the door, that his stomach drops. He struggles for words, his brain too muddled and foggy to understand anything. 

"Cas?" his voice cracks, wavers with nerves. He tries to swallow down the dry lump that's already forming in his throat. "What are you doing?" He asks, with a small humorless huff. Cas all but ignores him, his hand still hanging on the knob of the door. 

"Cas?" he tries again, straightening up more against the bed. He stares at Cas' broad shoulders, waiting for an answer that never comes. He shifts a little on his feet, rolling his shoulders back and then forward again. His thumb rubs the doorknob in small circles around the lock. And then his hand drops to his side, slapping against his worn jeans.

Dean tries again. "Cas? Please? What's wrong?" He's now shaking, worried that he has done something wrong, or that something bad has happened to Cas. Dean flicks his eyes around once more, catching on Sam momentarily then coming back to Cas.

He slowly turns towards Dean, his face blank, and when he raises his eyes, they are cold, lifeless. Dean tenses, and instinctively presses his body against the wall further. "Cass?" he stutters, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Cas does that tilt thing with his head, which is usually adorable, but this time he does it with smile, like he knows something. Dean's blood rushes in his ears, and the room tilts a little to the side at the sight. Cas walks forward, again with a purpose, and stops when his knees hit the bottom of the bed. Dean jumps back from the noise, cradling both hands to his chest.

"Shh, Dean." He whispers with more breath in his words than usual. He extends one of his pale hands out his long slender fingers stretching forward. Dean doesn't understand it at first, but then he realizes that Cas is reaching out to touch his leg. As soon as he figures that one out Dean pulls away from the coldness with a jerk. His eyes water a little as he attempts to keep eye contact. Those blue eyes are now blown wide with wantwantwant. Dean knows that look when he sees it, he's seen it practically his whole life. It's the way Alastair used to look at him.

Cas smiles again, his eyes flitting down Dean's body in one quick movement, and then back up again. He locks gazes "Dean." he says more firmly, those eyes are almost black now. 

He whimpers when Cas places his hands down and begins to climb onto the bed.

His hands slide across the sheets, rustling them under his firm touch. He keeps eye contact as he climbs all the way onto the bed. His hands reach for Dean's legs, but he pulls them up to his chest with a shiver. His hands eventually find his legs and begin sliding up, and then up, until he can’t pull them far enough from reach. Cas follows his bowed legs until he is resting between them. And that's when Dean lashes out against the uncomfortable touch. He pulls his knees up and gets ready to throw punches. But as soon as he swings, Cas catches his wrist, and slides more firmly between Dean's legs. He reaches for Dean's other wrist, that's pressed up against his chest. But Dean wiggles as far as he can manage, with his arm shooting out to the side. As soon as he thinks he is far enough though, Cas leans over him effortlessly and grabs his other wrist. 

He pins both of Deans arms to the back of the bed, and digs his blunt nails into the bones of his wrists. Dean hisses "Cas, your hurting me." he whispers into the now freezing air. Cas flashes him a grin, and ruts against Dean's hospital pants. The room spins a little more, because did Cas just? No. It's not him, Dean thinks, hopefully.

"Cas, let go." he says more urgently, tugging at his arms. "Dean." He answers, a warning to stop struggling, which only makes him struggle more. He tugs, and pulls, and kicks, succeeding in kicking the blankets onto the floor. Cas tsks at him, locking gazes again, a more urgent need in his fully black blown eyes. They soften for only a moment "Do you love me?" he whispers, licking a long wet trail up Deans neck. Dean shivers.

When Dean doesn't answer right away Cas crushes his wrist bones together. Dean whimpers, and tears prick at his eyes. He knew this was going to happen. He knew that this was all Cas was after, all he wanted, just like everyone else. 

He swallows at the growing lump, and nods 'yes'. 

Fucking. Idiot.

Cas crushes there lips together then, forcing his tongue inside Dean's mouth. His stomach turns in disgust, and hot tears finally spill over his cheeks. The world is closing in on him again, hasn't done that in a while. He knows he is shaking hard against Cas, he also can feel his chest grow tighter, and the air become impossible to breath. 

He sobs into the kiss when Cas rubs against him again. And again.

Until he needs more, and runs his hands down Dean's spasming chest. Dean's hands fall to his sides when they are dropped, and Cas works his fingers under his waistband.

Dean only starts to struggle again as he begins to pull at Dean's pants. "No." He says, catching Cas' hand and tugging. Cas swats his hand away, and tugs harder. His pants slide down at the command, and Dean kicks out, only helping and removing his pants completely. 

He takes his chance when Cas is down further, removing his jeans, and rolls onto his side. swinging his legs over the side, he almost gets to his feet when Cas grabs the back of his neck and slams his head into the bed, pulling his legs back up. 

Now on his belly, with his legs spread wide, he has no way of fighting. He sobs when he feels the pressure of Cas against him…

"Dean, wake up!"

Click. 

His eyes fly open, white light blinding his vision while a tall shadow hovers above him. The machines noises slowly come back, along with his and the shadow above his fast breaths. The heart monitor is the loudest of them all, matching his leaping heartbeat. While the oxygen machine works a little faster to calm him. Large hands loosen there grip on his wrists as his eyes adjust to the brightness. First thing that comes into focus is long brown floppy hair, and then those hazel fox slanted eyes. Sam. His chest relaxes suddenly, anxiety he didn't even know was there dissipates. He doesn't think he could have handled waking up to Cas holding him down, not after that nightmare. 

Just a nightmare….It wasn't Cas - because Cas would never do that to him - he still loves him. 

When he looks up Sam is still staring at him a look of horror and worry crunching his features. His hair is sticking to one side, like he just woke up. And he's just staring at Dean, with such big puppy eyes. Dean flexes his fingers, and realizes that Sam still has a hold of his wrists. He's also standing a little closer than what Dean is comfortable with. 

"Get offa me." He doesn't recognize his own voice, it cracks and bleeds with emotion. Sam seems to startle out of his trance though, because he slowly peels his sweaty hands from Dean's wrists. Although he doesn't step back, or remove his gaze from Dean. Dean uses the backs of his hands to wipe away the moisture on his cheeks. Sam follows his movement and his frown deepens. "Are you okay?" Sam whispers, almost looking like the little kid Dean used to care for. He sighs with a small smile "Yeah. I'm fine." 

Sam doesn't look convinced though, because he stays right where he is, with those big puppy eyes boring into Dean. He let's his eyes fall closed for a moment flexing his hands until he feels the twinge of pain from the tiny cuts. The flowers, the fucking flowers. He should really tell someone about those. But he doesn't, instead he opens his eyes and says "Where's Cas?" 

Something like guilt flickers across Sam's expression, but is quickly wiped away. "He went home to get some rest." Is all his brother says, finally letting his eyes wander to the chair Cas usually sits on. Dean just nods in return because he is too tired for this, and he is sure that Cas can take care of himself. He looks over to the chair next to the window (which is open, thank god) blankets are spread across the back of it, along with Sam's computer and a coffee cup. 

He looks back to his brother, who has now taken a few steps back and fiddling with…..the flowers. Damn it. Those hideous black roses. Dean clears his throat and straightens out his blanket. 

"So I'm guessing you slept here?" he asks hoping to steer the topic away from the damn roses. Sam nods keeping his gaze on his hands "Yeah."

The room quiets uncomfortably then. Dean drums his fingers across his thighs, and manages to sit himself up against the bed. "The cof-" He's cut off.

"Why did he send you these?" Sam booms over him, turning a stone glare towards Dean. Dean swallows, and looks away from his brother. There is no way he is going to start this with Sam. The flowers are just a stupid gift from Alastair, he shouldn't even still have them. There is nothing to talk about, it's done and over. No way in hell Al can keep his threat, not when he's locked away. And most definitely not while Cas is around.

"Dean." His brother growls more soft than angry. Dean shakes his head, and runs his fingers through his hair. Taking a deep breath in he says "I don’t want to talk about it." Sam huffs beside him, taking a step closer. "Dean-" He starts, placing a hand on his arm. Dean jerks away from the touch "I said I don't want to talk about it." He says more clear, and with more anger than before. "We have to talk-"

"No." He growls, rubbing his sweaty palms on the blankets. "Dean." his brother says again, stepping even closer. Dean flips his gaze over to him then. Those big brown eyes are pleading now. He matches Sam's gaze, letting his shield come down for a brief second, just so Sam can see all of the hurt there. "Sammy, please." He whispers. And there's that voice he doesn't recognize again. Shattered and broken. 

Sam actually takes another step forward, a small thump of the flowers hitting the floor, before he wraps huge arms around Dean and pulls him in for a bear hug. "okay." he whispers. "We don’t have to talk about it." 

He let's Sam have his chick flick moment and hugs his brother back. Tight and warm and safe, he hadn’t realized how much he has missed Sam until now. God it has to have been almost two years since he left for collage. "okay, okay Samantha let go of me." He huffs, pushing his huge brother away from him and quickly rebuilding his shield. Sam smiles as he stands, all dimples and white teeth. Then he picks up the flowers from the floor, and holds them out to Dean. 

Dean frowns at them, and raises his eyes up to his brother in question. "What do you want me to do with these?" Sam asks. "Get rid of them." He states plainly, twisting his body up further against the bed. 

Sam doesn’t ask anymore questions as he walks over to the garbage and throws the flowers in, along with the card.  
………

When Cas wakes in the morning, he decides to take a run and leave Sam a little more time alone with Dean. Plus he hasn't been on a good run for a while, and it would be nice to get out. So he throws on some sweats and his running shoes, since it's still chilly outside he throws on a light jacket as well. He doesn't bother telling Gabriel where he is going, since his brother likes to sleep in on Saturdays anyhow. And then leaves the apartment.

Cas starts out running as soon as he feels the cold wind hit his skin. He takes the rout to the small patch of woods a couple blocks away, and lets his mind get lost in running. The feeling of wind on his warm skin, the constant padding of his shoes on concrete, and his labored breathing. It's been such a long time since he has felt this kind of peace, this type of control over everything.

Especially now that he has a plan to destroy Beard, everything seems perfect. 

Once he enters the trees, he speeds up his pace. He lets his lungs burn and his legs become jelly as he makes his own trail through the trees. The dirt is soggy from light rain yesterday, and flips up in chunks behind him while covering his shoes and pant legs. It smells earthy and clean when he inhales through his nose. 

The trees are blurs beside him as he makes his way even deeper into them. 

He can barely wait for tonight when he goes to work. Only thing he needs is for Rosco to show at the bar. He also knows that he should feel some kind of regret or guilt, or even be afraid of what he is about to do. But truth is he doesn't. in fact he feels great about it, hell he is even excited. This man deserves everything that Cas is about to give him. He will never be able to speak of Dean again, better yet he will never be able to hurt him ever again. 

Cas makes a sharp right, and starts up a small trail. The angle makes it a little more difficult to run as fast, but gives him a better burn through his legs. He lets the burn worsen to the point that he doesn't think he can take anymore. But he keeps going anyway. 

He keeps going until he's gasping for air, and sweat is drenching his clothes. Once he stops he sees where he ended up, Dean's hideout. Cas hadn't even noticed or payed any attention as to where he was going, and yet? He ended up here. He can't help but smile a little at this place, it's not only a special place for Dean but for him as well. 

He yanks his jacket off and ties it around his waist. The place looks all the same, except for the carving of their initials in the biggest tree. Cas slows and stops in front of the huge tree. He traces the small carving with his fingers with a smile. Who knew that he would become so attached to the green eyed man from the bar. 

……………..

Sam left a little more over an hour ago to pick up some food, and has been stuck in traffic for half of that time. Some car crash on the intersection, and the damn police shut down everything around. He has been behind the same mini van with little people stickers on the back window, along with "best soccer mom" bumper sticker over the indented grey bumper for almost 40 minutes. Then behind him is a man in a truck that likes to pull up way to close behind him for Sam's liking, while he listens to loud country music in his huge cowboy hat.

He only wanted to get some food for him and Dean, and then bring it back to the hospital. But it was his idea to surprise Dean with the best pie in the country (or that’s what the website says) he deserves something good after going through hell. And obviously it was very bad idea. 

In no way does he want Dean left alone for this long, Cas would rip Sam a new one if he knew that he left Dean all alone in that room. Not only because he needs to be protected, but because the Dean Sam knew isn't there anymore and he could have an attack at any moment. You see before this whole mess Dean would have fought his way out of the hospital, kicked Alastair and who ever else's butt that hurt him, and then he would go back like nothing happened. And now? Now he's just broken. 

Sam runs his hand over his face, maybe he should just turn around and get Dean some pie another time. The clock is ticking, and the longer Dean is alone the more of a chance of him being hurt is. 

So Sam turns the car around and heads back to the hospital. Dean will just have to live with the gross cafeteria food for now. 

..

As soon as Cas arrives to the bar for his shift he notices a few things that might be a problem to his plan. First is that Conner is working, the little shit is so nosy that Cas will have to work extra hard to keep this a secret and not be seen. Second is that it is Saturday, and Saturday's are the busiest, so once again he will have to be extra careful and not get caught. And finally the third, He has to wait and see if Rosco shows or not.

Cas ties his apron and opens the swinging door to the bar. 

.

.  
.  
.

I got ice in my veins,  
Blood in my eyes.  
Hate in my heart,  
Love in my mind.


	30. twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alright new chapter! you guys are amazing thanks so much for all of the kudos and comments:)

The bar is humid with sweat slicked bodies moving across the dance floor, people of all shapes and sizes joining in and grinding against each other. While the DJ speeds up the beat and turns up the music so the speakers are almost to loud for anything to be heard over the top. There are people laughing, talking, and a few couples scattered around the room with their lips glued to each other. The lights are almost too dim to make anything else out, corners of the room completely pitch black, and the air holding fog from the cigarette smoke in thick rolls.

Conner is leaning over some men's tables near the dance floor, he's swaying his hips with the beat while he leans over a larger man wearing a cowboy hat. He has a huge smile on his face, while he takes their order. While on the other side of the room Meg is taking an older looking ladies order, with her same 'I don’t give a fuck' face on. While the lady already looks drunk as hell to begin with. Cas breathes in the smoke scented room and starts taking orders from behind the bar.

He's missed being here. Which is odd he has never really enjoyed working (especially since Conner started working here) and he is surprised that he chooses now to miss it. He thinks it's mostly because he's excited for his plan, but he thinks that some of it is also seeing Meg again. He hasn't been able to talk or see her lately, not with everything going on with Dean. Him and Meg are really close friends, so seeing her again is kind of a relief.

Cas gets to work on the first few drinks ordered. Making sure to keep an eye out for any signs of Rosco.

….

Sam is surprised with how long it takes for him to find a decent place for some takeout. Most places he does drive past are either run down and sketchy looking, or pact with so many people that he doesn't dare take the time to order anything. More time he spends away from Dean, the more of a chance of him freaking out. Although the hospital would call him or Cas if anything did happen, he just can't take the chance. He has had enough of worrying about his brother

Turns out that he is going to have to wait in line for food, because everywhere he has checked (That he trusts) have been busy. So Sam ends up standing in line at a burger place, for half an hour…

….

He walks through the halls with purpose. He avoids all eye contact with nurses or staff, pulling his coat in closer to keep from showing his face to them or the cameras above. He knows exactly where the room is located, having been there a few times this week. The vile in his pocket is squeezed tightly in his fist, only a few more drops remain inside. His long bony fingers are wrapped around it like a vice, just in case anything happens. There is also the weight of his pistol in his shoulder holster, for more extreme reasons.

His long legs carry him fast, up the staircase through the main waiting room and down a dimmer looking hallway. He doesn't know how to name the feeling in his gut (kind of gotten used to it) anger? Revenge? Pure fucking darkness? Or maybe just bloodlust, like a fucking wolf about to take down his lunch. Yeah, that sounds about right. Almost two fucking years of waiting to do this, two years of tricking and dosing his fangs in the delicious poison of death. It's been too long….He grins, turning down the hallway that Dean is located in.

…

There has been no sign of Rosco tonight, not yet anyway, and Cas is starting to get antsy. He doesn't know why he expected this to be so easy. Like Beard would just walk in here and take the bait. In no way is he in his right mind, three months ago, the old Cas, he would have never thought about doing anything like this. Dean has made him like this, he would do anything, anything for him. He's so deep in this war that he doesn't think he is going to dig himself back out. At least not until Dean Is safe.

"Someone's thinking too hard." Meg states as she rounds the counter and sets her tray down. Cas shakes himself out of his little stuper and gives a half ass smile towards Meg. She raises an eyebrow but returns it. "What's on your mind?" She asks grabbing a bottle off of the shelve and pouring it into three glasses. Cas walks over to stand by her side, and helps with the order she is making. And getting closer because it is too loud In here to have a conversation from across the bar.

"Dean." he answers when she gives him a questioning glance.

That gets him a chuckle, and he tilts his head a little in question. "As always." she murmers, placing the glasses on her tray and pecking Cas on the cheek. "Don't think about him too hard." She laughs, flipping her hair as she walks back over into the mess of people. Cas swats a dismissive wave, a blush creeping through his cheeks.

And then Conner is there to ruin it. Cas immediately turns his smile into a glare. Of course the brat doesn't notice, he just gives Cas a wink and bites his lip, while his eyes travel up and down Cas' body.

…

He hopes Dean likes the burgers, because he just stood in line for more than half an hour, and then had to wait another ten for the food to be ready. And to put the cherry on top he had a hell of a time getting the food and drinks out to his car without dropping it all. Oh yeah today is Sam's day….

He gets the car started, and makes sure he has everything where it wont spill, and then checks his phone just in case. WIth everything ready to go Sam pulls out of the parking lot and starts his drive to the hospital.

…

The room is dark when he opens the door, but he can clearly see the line of Dean's body on the bed. Nothing but the machines filling the cold space. He has to check the hallway once more to make sure there are no nurses making their rounds, and no people who will interrupt. He would like to keep this strictly between him and Dean. But if someone else is hurt in the process well so be it.

He lets the door swing closed behind him as he walks a few steps inside. His fingers slip on the vial, and his whole body just itches with need. Dean looks so fragile lying there, his body finally taking in the effects. He can tell by how skinny he is now, how his breath is smaller and faster, or how his skin has paled significantly. He could just end it all right now if he wanted too. Snap his fragile bones between his fingers, hear the music that Dean always makes so prettily for him.

He hums at the thought, letting his legs take him to the edge of Dean's bed. Dean's eyes are closed, but his face is pinched in pain, and his breath is coming faster with the closer Alastair steps to the bed. Must be his scent, good little Dean must somehow sense him there…..smart. Too bad the bitch is no match for him, it might have actually been more interesting.

Dean's eyes flick back and forth under his eyelids, and his face gets even more of a satisfying look on it, more than pain but recognition. Alastair smiles, and reaches out with the hand not holding the vial. He runs his thumb across Deans bottom lip, watching as they fall open obediently.

Alastair cups the back of Deans tiny neck, and runs his tongue over his throat, over his jaw, and finally to Dean's lips. He taste's just as good as he remembers, if not better. He squeezes his fingers experimentally, no response. He growls in disappointment, and squeezes harder, his knuckles going white with the effort. Dean whines, his shoulders tensing, and his eyes flicking faster underneath his lids.

He licks at Dean's mouth some more, nipping at his bottom lip. Almost there, but not quite the noise he was looking for. This time when he squeezes, he makes sure to dig his nails into the soft flesh of Dean's neck. Dean bucks beneath him, his hands coming up to grab at his hand blindly. Nope. Alastair digs in as hard as he can this time.  
Dean's scream is muffled by his lips. There it is, that's what he was looking for.

When he pulls back Dean is staring at him in shock, disbelief, horror, and a glint of longing in his huge green eyes.

This has happened a few times before, where Dean will wake up, but as always it's put as a nightmare or completely forgotten. And he can't pay a visit without messing with Dean's head first now can he?

Alastair smile's down at him, finally letting go of Dean's neck with a kind of slick popping noise. Probably just his nails popping out of Dean's skin.

"Alas-" Dean starts.

"Shh." He whispers, running his eyes over Dean's legs and then back up again. "Your just dreaming." he whispers, running a hand through Dean's tangled hair. Kept too short for his liking.

And just like that Dean's eyes are closed again. So fucking weak.

He takes the vial out of his pocket and unscrews the cap.

…

Sam is two stop lights away from the hospital. Driving as fast as he can go so that the food wont get cold. He has the heater cranked up, and the stereo playing that old rock station Dean likes so much. He better be damned happy that sam got him some food that he actually likes, and not something that will give them both food poising. Wouldn't that just be the funnest thing to explain to Cas. "Hey sorry I got your boyfriend more sick, I didn't want to wait in line for something else" Yeah, he bets that would go over well.

Cas is such a protective freak over Dean, that he would probably remove Sam from food duty. Not that he's complaining, because he is damned happy that Cas can look after Dean the way he does. He has no idea what would have happened to his brother if Cas hadn't of come along. Because obviously Sam didn't see anything wrong with Dean….

He drives through the green light, and takes a right past the next light towards the hospital.

Once parked in his spot he gathers everything up in his arms and heads towards dean's room.

…

The white powder is sprinkled into Dean's open mouth.  
.  
.  
.  
How terrible it is to love something that death can touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments:) questions? Tips? Feel free to leave them! I love seeing all of your opinions and thoughts !


	31. poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright here it is...we are nearing the end, so please enjoy. And thank you so much for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks! you are all amazing:) xoxo

He sprinkles a tiny amount of the white powder across Dean's tongue, watching as it dissolves into nothing. His brow pinches and his eyes roll beneath his eyelids. Alastair runs a hand over his fragile chest, Deans breathing even more shallow than last week. He smiles, raking his nails across Dean's neck, angry red marks lefts across his soft skin. 

Only two doses are left inside the vial. And from the looks of Dean, he should only have to use one more dose before he's dead. Two years of waiting, of having to pretend to love Dean, and now the times finally here. 

Deans eyes are hazed over when they come open, Alastair knows he's not really seeing anything but he smiles down at him anyway. His favorite part is when Dean's eyes roll back into his head, and he begins to shake and buck. The blankets fall to the floor. His breath turns into gasping. And his lips make that music Alastair likes so much. Little screams of torture, while tears fall from his pain hazed eyes. 

Alastair pushes his palm against Dean's working chest, leaning all of his weight on top of him. He leans down just as Dean's noises get louder. His lips brush across dean's ear "See you soon." he whispers, licking the streak of tears from Dean's cheek. Alastair keeps his hand on Dean's chest while he stands, just to feel him suffer a little bit more. He keeps the pressure applied to his lungs, making Dean gasp just a little bit harder, shake a little more violently, and suffer a little more intensely. 

The feeling of power rushes over him. Being able to hold something as fragile as Dean's soul in the palm of his hand, It's unbelievably…..prevailing, victorious, powerful. He could have ended it months ago, he could have ended it when they first met, hell, he could end it now If he wanted. But he won't. Because this, this right here is better than anything else he could have done. This is victory. Suffering from the inside out is how he wanted this to end, and so far he has succeeded. 

He has ripped apart Dean's insides, taken his hope, scarred his skin, and haunted his nightmares. Now is time to take everything else he knows and loves, pull out the last hope that keeps him standing. 

It really is a shame though, to have to get rid of Dean so fast. He was great to have around, for cleaning, for cooking, and especially for anger, and sex. Dean proved to be the best thing he could take his anger out on, without getting arrested. And the sex…..the sex was always worth the fight, all the blood, the struggling, and that broken look Dean would give him after. Or even better the way he cried, So beautifully, so brokenly. The way he would tell Alastair how he loved him the next day with just the tiniest glint of hope in his eyes, always begging for him to stop like the good little whore he is. Just for him to turn around and fuck Dean all over again. 

He can go on and on about all the ways he would love to keep Dean. But it's not like he's not replaceable. There are many more like Dean, they may not cry for him as beautifully as Dean did, they may not be as broken, but there are others. And all Alastair has to do is snap his fingers.

With Castiel here now he has to go through with it. He can't have anyone getting him in real trouble, and he most definitely can't have Dean whoring himself off to someone else, Dean is his. And if Dean won’t be his, then he can't be anyone's.

Alastair comes out of his daze with a growl, realizing that he forgot that he was pushing Dean down still. Oops. He let's his hand fall to his side, the air filling with Dean's agony as he struggles for breath. He flexes his fingers they are numb from pushing down so hard and for so long. Dean only get's worse by the minute, and Alastair really wishes he could stay to see the show. But he can’t risk getting caught. 

Just as he starts to turn for the door he hears Dean whispering. Little pathetic gasps. He can't really make out the words at first. But the more he listens the more it comes clearer. Cas, he's calling for the other man. What the fuck can he give Dean that Alastair can't? what makes him so fucking special to Dean? 

Alastair growls, and let's his anger boil over the edges. 

Before he knows it he has the lid unscrewed from the vial and a hold of Dean's short hair. Dean makes whimpering noises, but continues to call for Cas. His eyes are wide with fear and unseeing pain while he stares up at the ceiling. Alastair thinks that maybe he knows what's happening, that he can see him glare with all the fucking poison he has left in his body. He digs his fingers into Dean's scalp forcing his head back, tilted up to the point of pain. 

Dean's mouth hangs open now with no choice but to stop calling for Castiel. Alastair takes a deep breath leaning down once more, his lip brushing Deans cheek. 

"Castiel's not here Dean." 

Dean whimpers, his limbs shaking. Alastair's lip's twitch with anger "No one's here to save you." He breathes.

Dean chokes, more tears soaking his pillow, maybe he can hear him. Alastair smiles. 

"It's just you and me now. Like. It. Should. Be." he growls pulling tighter on Dean's hair. 

"I lo-o-v." Dean manages, Alastair cuts him off with a laugh.

"What Dean? You love me? Is that what your trying to say?" 

Dean gasps, his lips trying to form words.

Alastair grins, he fucking grins, wide and evil. "Well guess what?" He whispers, his tongue snaking out to lick a tear away from Dean's cheek. 

"I don't love you." He whispers, with all of the hate he can muster. Dean shakes harder beneath him.

"I never loved you, your worthless to me." Dean actually screams then, loud, and broken. Alastair covers his lips with his own, in a rough kiss, biting down on Dean's bottom lip until he tastes the tang of blood. Dean's body isn't under his control or else he imagines that he would be fighting him. But when he pulls away Dean's eyes have cleared slightly and he is staring in disbelief. 

Alastair gives a confirming smile, and watches as Dean crumbles to pieces beneath him. That hope he has been holding onto so tightly cracks, his eyes go dull as his mind retreats to the safety inside. The light that Castiel had stored there is ripped so effortlessly from him that it makes Alastair smile triumphantly. His sobs get so violent that the bed shakes, and his breathing gets even worse (who knew that were even possible). Now Dean refuses to look at him, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to shake his head free. 

Alastair tips the vial over Dean's lips, struggling to keep him still long enough for the powder to pour into his mouth.   
….

Sam is almost to Dean's room when Skylar steps in front of him. Her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and her lab coat a little more wrinkled than usual. Her expression changes when she looks at him, and she places her hands on her hips with a smile. "Looks like you might need some help." she says, nodding towards the bags of food in his arms. Sam nods and gives a smile back as she takes the paper bag from his arms. He arranges the drinks so he can hold them more firmly. She starts to turn when Sam stops her.

"Hey." He says, Skylar turning to face him with an eyebrow raised in question. Sam clears his throat "Any news?" He asks, his voice a little quieter than before. Skylar's smile fades, and her expression saddens "No." She answers searching for more words as she drops her gaze to the floor. Sam's heart sinks. It's been weeks, weeks since Dean was admitted, and no one has been able to figure out what's going on. 

All the while Dean has gotten worse, he's practically a zombie when Cas isn't around. And his appetite has gone, which is completely unlike him, Dean is always hungry, he was always eating or drinking something. Well…..the Dean he remembers was. This new Dean, he's different, quieter, skinnier, paler, he's practically dead to the world. The only time his eyes light up or Sam even sees a little spark of the old Dean is when Cas is there. But Cas……well he has been preoccupied lately, he leaves more often, he practically just sits around and stares. Sam can tell that he has something much bigger to deal with, all of his time is spent taking care of Dean or at work. The guy is freaking possessive over Dean to, even when it’s someone trying to help his brother if Cas sees them as threat he gets all quiet and stiff. Those blue eyes darken with hate and Sam practically waits for him to blow up or something. 

This, all of this, it's crazy. This is so much more than he expected when he made the drive here. When he practically had to do a full on investigation to find his own brother. Not only to find out his past had been hell, but to find him living with castiel. The man who practically growled at him when he mentioned his brother. 

"Sam." Skylar says in an uneven tone, looking up to him under her thick black lashes. Sam visibly shakes himself "Sorry…Uh." he stops, breathes. "I was just thinking." he finishes honestly, giving her a tight smile. He silently urges her to forget about it and lead the way to Dean. Thankfully she does, but not without throwing him a weird look before she turns and walks down the hallway. 

"so are you married?" she asks awkwardly, gesturing down at his ringed finger. He nods "Yeah, almost a year now." he answers, his chest relaxing a little at the thought of Jess.

……

Alastair has Dean's head pinned, his mouth forced open from the uncomfortable position, and the tiniest bit of powder sprinkled across his tongue. That's when he hears the voices, soft from distance, but they are getting dangerously close, and he can't take the chance of getting caught. He growls and throws Dean's head away from his hand "We'll finish this later." he declares, twisting the cap back on the small glass vial and shoving it into his coat pocket. Dean whimpers in answer, his eyes squeezed shut, and his head turned away from Alastair. 

He huffs a laugh, and throws his hood over his head, pulling it down far enough to cover his face from prying eyes. He could have ended it, if he would have just had a couple more minutes. If any more of the poison would have to made it into Dean's mouth, he would be dead. Fucking pesky people had to ruin it, a couple more minutes, that's all he needed. He growls his frustration, taking notice in how Dean curls away from him. 

The voices are getting closer now, he can now tell that there are two of them, a women and a man. "Fuck." Alastair whispers. He takes the doorknob in hand and twists as carefully and quietly as he can manage, just in case anyone is right outside the room. 

When he has the door opened all the way he makes sure that there are no people who will see him sneaking out of Dean's room. The only people he sees are the one's the two voices are coming from, they ar farther down the hall and paying no attention to him as he steps out. 

With one more glance back at Dean, he can see the poison start to kick in. Just before he shuts the door he sees Dean's body begin to shake. 

…..

"She's a lucky girl." Skylar chuckles, giving him another smile that makes him smile back. All this talk about Jess is making him home sick…Maybe when Dean get's better he can bring her to visit. He has a feeling that Her and Dean would get along. 

Sam stumbles and almost drops the drinks when a broad black covered shoulder rams into his. The brief touch sends cold spikes down his arms and legs, a feeling so strong washes over him. Almost unnerving and over whelming enough for him to stop dead in his tracks. He shivers and turns around to see the man in the black coat rounding the corner. "Asshole." he mutters, wiggling his shoulders instinctively.

"what the hell was his problem?" he wonders aloud, receiving a huff from Skylar behind him. "Don't worry about it, come on." she says, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. Sam lets the tension leak away, and turns to follow her to Dean's door. 

Once she opens it, the drinks drop from his hands.   
.  
.  
.  
……………………  
The hope of empty men   
Between the idea and the reality  
Between the motion and the act  
Falls the shadow  
For thine is the kingdom  
Between the conception and the creation  
Between the emotion and the stars  
Falls the kingdom  
Life is very long  
Between the desire and the spasm  
Between the potency and the existence   
Between the essence and the descent  
Falls the shadow  
For thine is the kingdom  
For thine is  
For life is  
For thine is the  
This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
Not with a BANG  
But a whimper  
…………………….


	32. Skin and bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as I would like. but something came up and I couldn't make it any longer:( any way I hope you enjoy....and I love reading all of your comments!:) 
> 
> xoxo

Pain, everything is white hot flashes of pain, through his chest through his legs, tingling the tips of his fingers. And darkness, black smoke threatening to close him in, while long white hands wrap around his neck like a vice. He's shaking he knows he's shaking, a seizure, he can't control his body. There's so much noise around him, talking….no screaming? And whimpers, pathetic little hurt whimpers, someone's hurt….But who? 

It's him, he's hurt, he's hurt. But how? He can't remember, all there are is words, words that repeat themselves, over, and over, and over again like a recording. 

"I don't love you."

"I never loved you."

"Your worthless to me."

There's that pain again, except this is a different kind of pain. This feels like wolfs are tearing his chest and insides to shreds, while he bleeds out, paralyzed, and on the floor. The voice behind the words is important but he can't decipher who it is. His mind is hazed from all of the pain. 

He can feel hands on him, not the long pasty ones, not the one's that hurt him, but hands that are soft and reassuring. He also knows who these hands belong to but his mind wont let him see, everything is darkness. It's safe inside his head, as long as he hides from the demons living in there. But the demons are nothing compared to the pain he has felt outside. Outside where the tall man can get him, what’s his name? he can’t remember that either, it's blocked off in the part of his brain that recognizes the pain.

His lungs expand once, twice, three times. Then they stop, they spasm, they don't work. Air is pushed from them, and he clings to the last of the oxygen. He manages to push his chest up but not by much, it feels like he's planted under concrete, except he's moving. He knows he's moving, but not under his command, under the tangy taste he had on his tongue. The taste that those long fingers put there, while a morphed evil face looked down at him. 

Smiling. The thing smiled at him. 

"I don't love you."

"I never loved you."

"your worthless to me."

…….

The drinks explode across the floor, dark liquid running every which way while the ice scatters and jumps across it. Everything Sam is seeing seems like it’s out of a nightmare, running in slow motion as he stares into his brothers room. Dean's body shakes so hard that the bed rocks back and forth. His screams echo throughout the room. And his chest spasms with how hard he's trying to breath. 

Before Sam knows it he is next to Dean's bed with his hands braced on the metal railing. He has to look away when he sees Dean's face. It hurts too much to look at him, when he looks so lost so broken. This is not the brother he remembers. Dean's eyes are open, but he's not seeing. They are so heavily hazed with his pain that Sam barely recognizes the person locked inside as Dean. 

He's barely aware of Skylar calling for help down the hallway behind him. He lifts his hand and runs his fingers across the bleeding indents of Deans neck. Where did these come from? Sam traces his eyes across Dean's neck following the long red tracks. Dean must have done this to himself, that's the only explanation he can come up with. 

Dean shakes harder, his knuckles gone white with how hard his brother is gripping the sheets beneath him. 

"Dean." Sam whispers, like he's little all over again. Just a small fragile thing while he curls across his big brothers warm chest. Dean's fingers running through his over grown hair while he whispers soft words into Sam's ear. John's screaming tuned out by how safe he feels with Dean right beside him. The same big brother that fed him, teased him, cooked him soup when he was sick, read him stories when he couldn’t sleep. Stayed up with him most the night when he had a nightmare, the Dean that took the blame for something Sam did and got the punishment John ruled out. The big brother that called him Sammy, even when he grew taller than Dean. 

The same brother that has been broken and ripped apart by a monster. The one person that needs his help the most now. 

"Dean." Sam whispers again, placing his hand on his brothers cheek and turning his head so that those blank eyes stare at him instead of the ceiling. Sam's breath catches in his throat, and he's pretty sure his heart stops when Dean whimpers his name. Maybe he is in there somewhere, maybe he can hear him. 

"It's going to be all right." Sam assures, trying his hardest to keep his voice from wavering with the tears that clog his throat and run down his cheeks. "k s'mmy." dean slurs, his eyes rolling into his head. 

Sam chokes back a sob, and let's himself be pulled away from Dean's side. He trips over his own feet as he's dragged backwards. The woman behind him is saying something but it's all lost to him, none of her words registering. 

He sees Dean begin to shake even harder, and the doctors flip him onto his side before the door shuts him out completely. 

……

Just as Cas sees Rosco enter the bar, his phone rings, and loud. He realizes he forgot to put it on silent, and battles with himself on whether he should answer it or not. Because Rosco is here just like he planned, and he has the perfect opportunity to go through with his plan. But judging on how badly the last time went when he didn't answer his phone….

"Hello." he answers, pushing through the swinging doors and walking out past the hooks so that the music is dulled enough for him to make out Sam's panicked voice. 

"It's Dean. Please get here, and fast." Sam sound's wrecked, like he'd been crying and screaming all at once. 

Every one of Cas' plans comes to a stop. Screw his plan. Screw revenge. And screw killing Rosco. 

The only thing running through his head now is getting to Dean.

……

 

Alastair drives through the darkened road, fucking smiling to himself the whole drive home. Because he has truly broken Dean to pieces. He didn't think it would have been this easy to rip the rest of the light from his eyes. All it took was the confession of never loving Dean, and he fucking broke. He broke so beautifully, that it would be a shame not to replay the memory over and over again in his head. 

The rest wasn't too hard either. He knew having Rosco show up and ask about Dean would preoccupy Castiel for the moment. And Sam, well Sam was no problem to get rid of as well. All he needed was a couple minutes alone with Dean, and a small vial of poison.

All of it had worked out so fucking perfect.

…..

The pain fades, his chest loosens, and the world goes black around him. He can breath. He's numb to the cruel world around him, and he can feel those hands he has been longing for return to his poison filled skin. Even if nothing is going to be okay, he can still savor these moments. His touch. Real love from someone in return. No one can take that from him, not ever. Not unless he's dead, which can't be too long from now. 

But he's okay with that, he is okay leaving this world knowing someone loved him. Knowing that someone cares for him the way he has cared for every one else his whole life. 

Dean is okay with dying. 

Blackness pulls him under into sleep.

….

If I died and went somewhere far,  
I'd write your name on every star,  
so everyone could look up and see,  
that your love means the world to me. 

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
TBC


	33. blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay here's a new chapter! I love you all *HUGS*

His silver Mercedes skids into the parking lot of the hospital, leaving tred marks from his back tires and black smoke in it's wake. He barely even bothers with grabbing his keys from the ignition, before he's sprinting inside. People look up from there seats, and the nurses move back out of his way when he passes the waiting room. He doesn’t slow or spare a glance over their way. His adrenaline pumping hard and fast through his blood.

Dean, get to Dean. Only thing that matters now is him. 

Cas decides to take the stairs instead of the elevator. His muscles protesting the movement with every step he takes, too sore from his run the other day. He pays no attention to the slow burn he gets through out his legs, and keeps pushing himself until he hits the floor he needs to be on. 

He rounds the corner into the hallway, and stops. 

Sam is pacing back and forth outside Dean's room, his hand over his face, and his hair a mess. While the nurse guarding Dean's room crosses her arms and keeps her head lowered to the ground. 

Shit. That means Dean had another one of his attacks. It also means that he and Sam are going to have to wait to see him again. What could have happened this time? It seems that Dean's attacks are getting worse, and most of the time there is nothing that even trigger them. Far as he knows attacks have to be triggered somehow, they don’t just pop up out of no where. 

Which also means that there is something much worse wrong with him, and no one has been able to figure it out……

Cas stops his mind from examining that thought, he doesn't want to know how bad Dean is. He's not even sure if he wants to know what's wrong, because if it ends up being something they can't fight…..He can barely handle being in the same room with him anymore, it's too damn painful to stare at Dean in pain, and be completely powerless to help. 

Then again maybe he doesn't want to know because if it is something that can't be fixed…Cas doesn't want to watch the one he loves die. He can't bare even the thought of losing Dean. 

It hurts too much. They have worked to hard, fought too much, to just give up and lose the whole battle.

Cas will fight until he can't fight no more, until his bones are brittle and broken, until his body is cold and colorless. He won’t stop as long as his heart is beating, and his love for Dean won't die until he does. Even then he will always remember his time here, his battle for Dean. Always. 

He just hopes Dean feels the same.

"Cas." He looks up to find Sam standing in front of him. His eyes are puffy and red as he stares down, searching his face for any hint of emotion. He has his arms folded across his chest, huddling into himself, which makes him seem smaller than a giant should look. 

He tries to muster a small smile, that comes off more of a frown than anything. "How is he?" He asks, looking over to the nurse standing against the door. 

He doesn’t want to know, he doesn't want to know. He's scared. He's fucking terrified of Sam's answer. 

Because one of these times Cas is going to come walking in here and Sam will be waiting for him. Just like right now. And Sam will tell him that Dean is dead, that some bastard killed him, or that he had a seizure and didn't make it. Whatever the reason, Cas doesn't ever want to hear those words. From anyone.

"I don't know. They still aren't letting me in, and they still haven't told me anything." Sam almost whispers, Cas straining to hear the too soft words. "It’s getting worse." Sam continues, mostly to himself, his long fingers fidgeting with the front of his baggy shirt. 

Cas looks away, staring at the door of Dean's room. His throat tightens, and his eyes burn, all of the fucking emotion in Sam's voice. All of his own suffering put out where Cas can see it……it hurts, makes this worse, as if it wasn't bad enough already. Of course Dean's getting worse, of course they can't figure out what’s wrong. And of course Cas can't do anything to help.

He let's his gaze follow back over to Sam, and takes a couple deep breaths. "Are you okay?" He whispers, watching as Sam looks up at him, and then over to the nurse. He chews on his bottom lip, and his eyebrow's twitch together "No." He answers, letting his gaze drop to the floor. 

Cas nods, he figured as much. 

"How long?" Sam says as he keeps his head lowered and his eyes on the bottom edge of Dean's door. Cas' head snaps back up. "What do you mean?" He asks, tilting his head. 

Sam huffs, tapping his foot against the floor. "How long has Alastair been doing this to Dean?" he clarifies. 

Cas furrows his brows, his mouth tilting more into a frown than before. Dean never really gave a number on how long, he barely even talked about Alastair around him at all. Not unless he pushed for it, even then it was short clipped answers. 

"I don't know." he breathes. "Dean never really said. Although I imagine it was quite a long time." Sam turns to look at him again, nodding. "He could have asked someone for help." Sam says, mostly to himself as he thinks aloud. 

"yes. But I don't think it would have been that easy." Cas answers tapping his fingers against his thighs. 

Even if Dean managed to get help, he wouldn't have been able to stay safe, Alastair would have found him again and punished him even more for disobeying. 

Sam huffs in frustration, and begins his pacing again. 

Castiel leans against the opposite wall of Dean's door and let's the silence take over the large hallway.

…….

Two hours.

It takes two hours of waiting, pacing, and worrying before Dean's door comes open. 

Sam almost chokes on tears when he sees Skylar walk out of the room. She keeps her eyes on the floor, and her hands on the paper towel she's holding by her waist. Cas is by Sam's side in an instant, with probably the same look of worry/hope on his face. Sam holds his breath, and waits. 

Skylar doesn’t look up, but Sam can clearly see the frown pulling at her lips, and the exhaustion weighing her body down. "He's stable. For now." She exclaims in her doctor voice that is so carefully put there. Sam feels his own muscles ache and protest when he nods his understanding. 

While Cas…..Sam looks over to where Castiel had been standing before, and finds an empty hallway. 

"Thank you." He tells Skylar with a small forced smile, already moving his feet through Dean's open doorway. 

Where he finds Cas, kneeling next to Dean's bed, with his four head resting against the edge of the bunched up sheets. His brother's and Cas' hands are clasped together in a firm grip, while Cas' shoulders shake. His breathing and sobs echoing through the small dim room. 

There are even more wires coming from Dean now then there were before. And his breathing hasn't seemed to have improved either, his chest still rising and falling too quickly for him to be getting very much oxygen. 

And what make's the scene even more heartbreaking, is that Dean is awake. He is staring off past Cas, at what Sam believes to be a wall. But his eyes are dull and un moving, there is no emotion in his brother, no recognition that Cas is even there. 

Sam chokes. He runs. He doesn’t know where but there is no way he can stay in that room with his brother like that. So he runs, fast and far.

…..

"I don’t love you."

Pain fucking heartbreaking, bone breaking, life threatening…pain.

"I never loved you."

It's worse than anything he has ever felt. Worse than the night terrors he has every time he closes his eyes. 

"Your worthless to me." 

He confirmed it, he fucking admitted to Dean that he never loved him. That he tricked him into thinking he was loved…..for two years! Two fucking years…….years spent lying. The 'I love you's' said like they were a game. Moving into together, talking about their future together, a lie, everything is a lie. 

Suddenly Dean wishes that he had pulled the trigger before Alastair took the pistol out of his hands. 

He wishes that the bullet would have pierced his brain, and he had fucking died. It would have been a hell of a lot less painful than this hellhole he lives In now. He doesn’t even know why Alastair saved him that day, obviously not because he loved Dean….No. 

The bastard set the whole thing up. He took an already broken man and broke him more. He fucking destroyed him. 

Dean's not sure there's anything left worth saving anymore. 

"I don’t love you." 

Hurts. Hurts. Hurts.

"I never loved you." 

But I loved you. I gave you everything. I sacrificed my body, my life, my family, my happiness, for you. All of it for you, and you took it, you took it and you fucking destroyed it. And it hurts, it hurts so fucking much, that I wish you would just come back to me. Tell me it's all a lie, that you did love me, that you do love me. 

"Your worthless to me."

No. That's not true…..it can't be. It can’t be? But it is, he should know better, he knows how worthless he can be. John never tired of reminding him, and I guess neither can you. Only a matter of time and Cas will see it too. 

Then what? Huh? You have no one. Not even Sammy will stick around for you. You. Are. Worthless. 

Fucking voices in his head, they won't stop. The demons won't stop trying to escape, scratching and clawing at the walls. Their voices are echoes of the truth, brought to torture him.

Dean can't do this anymore. Let Alastair poison him. Let Dean waste away. He doesn't care. There's no more energy for him to care…not anymore. 

….  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

Today I realized you don't care anymore

And then I realized, you probably never did anyways.

The sad part is, you made me believe you did.


	34. say you love me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aright here it is. I hope you like it. and i'm sorry *HUGS*

He watches as Dean stares, almost lifelessly through the hospital window. The powerful forest green of his eyes catching on the yellow sprays of morning sunlight through the opened curtains. Cas had opened them early this morning, after he mustered up the courage to crack his eyes open. Where he found Dean, exactly where he left him when he dozed off last night. 

The same dead look in his eyes when Castiel tried for his attention, repeatedly. He barely even twitched when Cas begged him to eat something, the food still sitting cold on the bedside table. Which only proves one thing, that Dean is getting worse, that he has locked himself away inside of his head. Away from whatever monster he's hiding from.

Dean's breathing remained ragged and un even through the night, and still continues with a sick raspy sound this morning. Cas had placed the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose several times already, but Dean always manages to remove it again. Every time he tries to communicate with Dean about how important the mask is, that he should wear it and maybe it would help him breath, he get's a huff of frustration in return, accompanying more silence after wards. 

There are even darker circles surrounding his eyes today, making them look sunken and dead, which also proves that Dean had gotten hardly to none sleep last night. While Cas doesn't even remember falling asleep last night. 

After crying for Dean for over what he thinks to have been two hours, he couldn't stave off the exhaustion any longer. One minute he was awake, and then the next he was raising his sore body from the visitor chair, while the sun poked through the heavy grey curtains. There was nothing in between, no dreams, no worries, just rest. 

But now he knows that Dean barely slept, he feels ashamed that he couldn't stay awake long enough to take care of him, at least long enough for him to make sure Dean was comfortable and okay. It was selfish, even though he knows that Dean wouldn't have ever gotten comfortable, that he would have gotten the same amount of sleep that he has now. But somehow, it would still make him feel better if he would have at least tried. 

Everything is just…..falling apart, right before his eyes. 

"Castiel." comes a familiar voice from behind him.

He hurriedly wipes the tears from his cheeks, and clears his throat, before turning in his chair towards Skylar. "Yes?" he answers, with as much confidence as he can muster, he tries to overpower the sound of hopelessness in his voice. 

Skylar looks tired, with her same pulled up blonde hair and a coffee mug clutched in her hand. "Can we talk, in my office?" 

Shit. Fuck. 

"Sure. What is this about?" he smothers the panic in his chest, keeping his breathing as slow as possible. It's okay, it's going to be okay, calm down. She gives him a tight smile, and tucks a few lose strands of hair behind her ear. "It's about Dean." she clarifies, leaning her body against the doorframe, while her eyes search the room behind him.

Cas' heart sinks, but he continues to tell himself lies to keep calm. Like, how this could be a good talk, maybe they found something to help Dean. Maybe…….There are no more lies he can make up, that's it, the only thing he can depend on now is hope. And from the stern look on Skylar's face, he can tell that hope isn't going to be enough to run off of. 

Cas nods and turns back around in his seat. Dean's back still turned towards him. He takes a deep breath and makes his feet work, he stands, slowly. His legs and chest ache, he feels raw inside as he takes the few steps over to Dean's bed. Dean flinches at the touch of Cas' hand on his shoulder, he keeps the touch as soft as possible. And tries his best to ignore the pang of hurt and failure that shoots through his chest. He leans down and places a soft kiss on Dean's cold cheek. The stubble scratches his lips, but he keeps his lips there a little longer than necessary, he savors the moment and stores this memory away somewhere safe. 

"I love you." He whispers, as he pulls away. 

He turns back to the doorway, masking his emotion as best he can. He's surprised to look up and find Skylar is staring at him, from where she stand, leaning against the door frame, her face a mix of pity and guilt.

*

He follows Skylar down the all to familiar hallway, to her office. Where he takes a seat, and wrings his hands together nervously. Skylar seems oblivious to everything happening around her, or she is choosing to ignoring it all. She goes about usual things around her office. 

The office looks the same as it did the first day he was here. The same bookshelves lined with dusty old covered books, and a couple pictures have been to added to the mix, of unfamiliar smiling faces. Cas guesses family of hers, since she is in some of them. She looks like a completely different person in the pictures, smiling and happy, un like here where she always looks so frazzled and sad. The only thing that has changed is how messy it is in here today, every other time he had been in here everything had been organized and put away. Which only adds to the un easy feeling pooling in his chest. 

Worry eats away at him the longer he waits for Skylar to fill the silence. She finds what papers she was looking for and sits across from him in her black leather chair. The only noises that fill the air are the papers being organized in a stack and set in front of her on the desk. She folds her hands in each other on top of the desk, and slowly but finally makes eye contact with Castiel. 

"There is no easy way to put this." She says, her tone reduced to business like manner. Cas clenches his jaw, and nods stiffly. 

Please, oh god please. Don’t take this from me, you can't rip my hope away like this. I fought, I'm fighting, please..

"As you know, Dean is getting worse." She continues. "And we haven't been able to figure out how, or why this is happening." Her finger runs across her ring, a nervous gesture. Cas swallows thickly, nodding once more, his voice seeming to have left him. 

"The tests that we have ran show that his organs are failing." She breathes, her eyes flicking away from his gaze for a moment as she takes a look at the papers on her desk. Cas clenches his jaw tighter, and presses his fingers into the meat of his thigh. 

I'm fighting the best I can, please, you can't take him away from me. He doesn't deserve this. No one deserves this pain, this sense of failure. 

"His lungs are filled with a liquid like substance, making it harder and harder for him to breath." His eyes burn, he can't keep looking at Skylar, he lets his gaze fall to his hands. And he taps his foot out of nerves, distracting himself the tiniest bit. 

"The real problem here is his heart. It's working over time to keep the blood pumping through Dean's body." She pauses, Cas breathes, and his eyes sting. "And eventually it will give out on him." 

The first tear falls, and soaks into the black fabric of his pants. He doesn't want to hear any more, just shut up, shut up, shut up. Stop ripping the world down around him for one fucking second, just long enough for him to breath. Just for a second. 

"What can we do?" he asks, his voice more of a wreck than he has ever heard it. Skylar looks up sharply, and frowns. "There's nothing more we can do." Another tear soaks into his slacks, and he tightens his fingers around his thigh harshly. 

"There has to be something we can…" he trails off, eyes darting around the room. Cas can save him, he can, he just…he needs a minute to process this.

Skylar looks even more frazzled now as she takes a deep breath, and runs her hand over the desk. "I'm so sorry Castiel."

"Don't." he stops, looking at her sharply. "Just stop." he whispers. "we can fix this." 

There has to be something, anything. He can fix this…he can.

Cas breathes out a half choked sob. 

"We need to know where you want him to stay for his last couple days." Skylar's words barely make it through the mess in Cas' head. "I can have it arranged for him to stay here. Or we can release him to you, and you can take him home."

"we just ask that you talk to Sam first. And you think about what will be best for Dean." 

He feels the nausea crawl up his throat, more tears stinging his eyes as he stands, and runs, without another word.

……

The night crawled by slowly, with Cas by his side, whispering, praying, begging. Castiel begged for Dean to be saved he prayed for god to help them. Until finally he collapsed into fitful sleep. Dean watched him sleep for a while, watched in awe as the one he loved held his hand all night long. 

But he still couldn't find it in himself to tell Cas what happened with Alastair the night before. this morning while Cas was going about taking care of him. Some part of Dean was still protecting Alastair, and a darker part wanted him to die. He wanted Al to poison him. It's not like he had anything else to live for, his whole life has been a lie. 

Cas begged him to eat at one point, and looked hurt when Dean refused it. The food made his stomach roll in disgust, he had no desire to eat, sleep, talk. The depression was settled so heavily around him, like a dark cloud blocking out all of the sunshine. Al's words still haunting every second of the day. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

And when Cas whispered the 'I love you' in his ear, he couldn't help but think that it might be a lie too. He had to will his tears away for almost ten minutes. Just because he wants it to be over, he doesn’t want to hurt anymore, he doesn’t want to cry anymore. He just wants this to be over, he just want to be at peace. 

The darkness needs to take him away from here, away from everyone else. He's sure that no one miss him, and if they did they would forget about him quickly. 

He doesn't want anyone to grieve over him once he's gone. He just wants it to be done, and for everyone to get rid of the burden that Is Dean Winchester. 

"I never loved you." 

He shuts his eyes, breathing deep. Everything is going to be okay now. Only a matter of time before Alastair comes back to finish the job.

……..

Sam doesn't understand that this is place he ended up at last night. He has no idea why he came here, or why he thought it was a good place to go. But he felt the need to be here, like something important is lying just under the surface. 

Alastair's house is oddly comfortable, the old furniture, the dull walls. It all screams of home, not Alastair's but Dean's. He can practically see all of the touches his brother put into the place, back when he was happy. He can see Dean smiling, he can see the Alastair Dean used to see. He can feel the love they shared.

But he can also feel the creepy vibe coming through the walls and the bloodstains he finds on the living room carpet. In the handcuffs, and whips hidden away in the closet upstairs. The basement wall chains, the spray of blood across the wooden stairs. Or the small blanket, and bloody cum stained pillow tucked underneath the stairs. It's almost like watching all the things he has missed while he was away. All of the years that Dean spent happy, and then all of the years he was tortured. 

While Sam sat in California, happy with Jess. No clue in the world that his brother might be suffering. 

Sam sitting in class, while Dean struggles to breath.

Sam having date night and kissing Jess lovingly, while Dean is forced to his knees and handcuffed to a wall.

Sam eating pizza with his friends, while Dean starves in a cold basement. 

It was wrong of him to abandon Dean like he did, when Dean did all he could to take care of Sam. He sacrificed his own happiness for Sam's. And that hurts, because he should have, could have, done more. And maybe Dean wouldn't be in the situation he is now.

Sam spends the whole night at the house investigating. By morning he makes his way back to his motel with nothing but a picture of Dean and Mary he found tucked underneath the bloody pillow. 

……

Cas pukes everything he ate that day into the toilet bowl of the hospital room. He can't make his tears stop, or the sobs slow. 

So he just scoots into the corner of the small bathroom, and hugs his knees to his chest as he cries. 

Just because he couldn't save Dean.

Just because Dean is dying and he is powerless to help.

He curls into himself and whispers his apologies to Dean.

……..

Alastair makes sure to tuck the vial into his coat pocket. And he makes sure that he will be able to find it when he goes back to the hospital. 

Just thinking about this makes him smile. 

That he can destroy all of this so easily, it helps him sleep at night.

Three days.

He will give Dean three days to say his goodbyes.

…..  
.  
.  
.  
.  
When I die

Don’t you dare

Come to my grave

And tell me

you love me

 

Because those words

Were the only thing

I would have needed

To stay.


	35. Your everything i have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for an update! I had a little difficulty writing this one:( I hope it's good! and I hope you are still with me. and I want to thank you all for the support it means a lot....and I promise that you won't regret it (hopefully) xoxox
> 
> song: unbreakable. By: Jamie Scott.

His legs wobble uncertainly beneath him as he pushes himself to stand. The small bathroom is cold, but humid from the last hour he has spent huddled in the corner. His tears have long stopped, his eyes swollen red with no more tears to give, while only tiny tremors and hiccups are left behind. His stomach has been emptied, repeatedly, until only strings of spit and bile fell into the toilet bowl, his muscles are tight with over use. The sense of hopelessness how ever, is still clawing at his bruised chest, which also seemed to have gotten worse. He feels raw inside, like someone spent an hour tearing at his chest cavity with a spoon, digging far enough that his heart felt the shred of tissue around it.

 

He's thought of every possible way he can help Dean, tried them from every angle, constantly changing things and getting more and more desperate the more they failed. Every single one he could come up with came out broken. All of there endings……ended with Dean dead. One way or another, they all failed.

 

And that, that's what scared him the most. Losing someone he has spent so much time trying to save, it's……..it's just not an option. It would hurt to much, take to much, and it would be losing the battle. The war that he has been fighting for almost four months now. There is no room to give up hope, that would be completely useless. It would also mean that they surrender, and Alastair wins.

 

 _ **That**_  spikes something  **dark** inside of him, something so willing to kill that it scares him. It’s downright scary the lengths he would go for the green eyed man. The amount of hatred he holds for Alastair goes to lengths for him to call it wrathful. It's dark, and runs hot through his veins, spiking up a notch every time he even hears the abominations name aloud.

 

Cas will go to great, dangerous, powerful, wrathful lengths, if it meant Dean would live. Because that. Is the only way he is coming out of this war. Dean will live. And Castiel will be the one to watch the life drain out of Alastair's colorless eyes.

 

He cuts off his thoughts abruptly. The hate already unfurling too quickly in his chest, almost quickly enough for him to panic. Because he knows that it's like a light switch. He goes from his normal calm self, to a mass murderer in a matter of seconds. And he can't let that happen, not here, and especially not when he is going back to Dean's room.

 

If Dean ever saw that part of him…..Well he would probably shut off from the world completely. Lock himself so far inside of his head that no one would be able to coax him out again. Castiel's trust would be lost, and they would have no way of saving Dean then.

 

Cas sighs, running a rough hand down his face. The tangy taste of vomit still lays in his mouth, and the smell still fills the air. He lets his numb legs take him over to the small sink placed in the corner of the room. He avoids his reflection as he leans down and turns the handle for cold water. He cups his hands and rinses his mouth out, swishing it around a couple of times, then spits it down the drain. He scoops up more water and rinses the sweat off of his face.

 

He makes a mental note to go buy a toothbrush and some toothpaste to keep here at the hospital.

 

He lets his dripping face hang, while his hands clutch the sides of the cold porcelain. No more tears are left, but all he wants to do is cry. He wants to huddle back into the corner and just cry.

 

He's so tired……fucking exhausted even.

 

And he is not looking forward to telling Sam anything he just learned.

 

Hell, he doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. But he knows that it's only a matter of time until he has to talk to both Skylar and Sam. The choice of leaving Dean here or taking him home hangs as an heavy reminder of everything that just happened.

 

Not right now. He decides, cutting his thoughts off. Right now he is just going to pull Dean into his arms and sleep.

 

He pushes away from the sink, straightens his wrinkled clothes, and pushes his hair back out of his face.

 

…..

 

 

He can’t get to Dean's room fast enough, the pull of the comfort, the love that he'll find there is compelling. A drug even. Because Dean is his home, he is his life, his light, he is his everything. He never knew that he could love someone so much. Almost so much that it hurts to not be around him.

 

But there is still a small voice telling him that he should treasure these moments, because he won’t have them for much longer.

 

And then there is the spike of panic, telling him that one day, not too far from now, he will walk into Dean's room and he will be dead.

 

That thought gets shoved deep, and far away from him as he walks through the doorway of Dean's room.

 

He almost wants to fall to his knees again, and cry.

 

Because Dean is still staring lifelessly still, but now he is turned towards the open door with his arms huddled against his rapid moving chest. The window, which is now dark with no stars showing through the sky, is still framed by open curtains. Everything is as how he left it. The only thing that has changed about the whole scene is that Dean is crying. Tears rolling in steady streams down his freckled face, while his lips tremble and pull into a pout. Cas can see the recognition there now, as Dean's eyes land on him.

 

He wants to laugh and cry at the same time. Because Dean has some how managed to pull out of his own head, even if it is the tiniest bit it still counts. But at the same time it hurts because he looks wrecked, he looks worse than Cas has ever seen him before. And that…… _hurts_.

 

Like a dam the wall Dean was holding as a shield, breaks. A sob spilling from his lips and echoing through the too quiet room. His chest twitching with the power of it, and his hands grasping the white blankets beneath him.

 

"Dean." He whimpers, the raw feeling spiking up all over again, like someone picked up the bloodied spoon again and set to work. He lets the door fall closed with a small click behind him, and moves towards Dean's bed.

 

Then stops abruptly.

 

Halting all movements, because Dean just……Cas furrows his brows. Dean just flinched back from him, huddling into himself as if to protect himself from Cas.

 

"Please." Dean whispers as his body relaxes again, another sob ripped from his throat with violence.

 

Cas swallows the growing lump, and takes the last two steps to Dean's bed, carefully and slowly. He breathes out a relieved sigh when his knees bump the bed.

 

"Please." he whispers again, raising his scabbed hand up in Cas' direction. Beckoning him closer, with the most desperate look, his eyes wide and fearful as he keeps contact with Cas.

 

He pushes his own hurt down far enough that he can barely feel it, and wastes no time sliding into the hospital bed. He faces Dean, as Dean tucks his head against Cas' chest, and tangles his hands in Cas' shirt.

 

Then comes the part he was dreading, Dean cries into his chest. While he fights his own tears, and wraps his arms protectively around Dean's small body.

 

 _He's gotten so skinny_ ……He squeezes his eyes shut.

 

"It’s okay." He whispers, breathing in deep, taking in Dean's scent like it's a comfort to him.

 

"It's going to be okay." not sure if that one was for him or for Dean.

 

Dean sobs again, clutching more tightly at his shirt. His cold nose buried into his neck, as tears wet his skin and collar.

 

"Shhh." The first tear slips free. "I've got you, baby." He breathes a shaky breath, and rubs circles into Dean's back.

 

His chest constricts of the feeling of dean's heart through his chest.

  _'_

_His heart will eventually give out.'_

 

Dean will be gone.

 

In a matter of days.

 

He hasn’t even said his goodbye's yet.

 

He doesn't want too say goodbye, **ever**.

 

He needs this, he needs Dean almost as much as Dean needs him. He won't go on without his other half, he can't. The green eyed man in the bar holds a piece of him now, a chunk of his soul. And without that piece he will _crumble_ , he will  _fall_  and no one will be there to  _ **catch**_ him….

 

"It’s okay…" his words stutter to a stop with a sob, another tear slipping down his cheek and into Dean's hair. It's okay he repeats inside of his head. It's going to be okay, he lies.

 

Dean shudders against him, his own words lost into cas' shirt.

 

They cry together like that until both of them are too exhausted to do more then sniffle.

 

Dean's the first to fall asleep. His breath evening out for the first time all week. And his face relaxing until he looks some what peaceful. Cas runs his fingers through the blonde spikes of hair, lets his eyes wonder over Dean's cheeks and nose. He counts the freckles there like stars. And realizes that this might be one of the last times he sees Dean like this.

 

He wishes he could see Dean smile one more time.

 

That he could make these last days something to remember. That he could make Dean smile, and laugh…..He wishes Dean was happy.

 

The blackness of sleep pulls him under.

 

…….

 

Sam paces in the small hotel room, from one end to where the foul smell is, to the other where the brown stain marks the carpet. None of this makes sense to him……How did Alastair manage to get a child hood picture. Especially because he was sure everything was burned in the house fire. All of there child hood memories burned, along with their mother. It seems like such a special picture, but he can't remember how. He knows for a fact that Dean wasn't able to find any pictures, and he certainly didn't own any.

 

Which still doesn't explain why he has seen this before. Somewhere……Familiar.

 

He used to see it all the time, but he can't manage to pull the answer from his sleep deprived brain.

 

He knows that the picture has been around for more than half of his life. But it was only taken out on certain days. Bad days. When the smell of liquor was strong in the air…….

 

That's it!

 

Sam stops pacing, and covers his face with his hands.

 

It was John's picture.

 

He took it out on his bad nights, when he drank too much……

 

"Holy shit." Sam whispers to himself.

 

How did Alastair get Dad's picture? The one he kept so close to him. The one that neither he nor Dean were aloud to touch.

 

John would never give this away willingly, especially to someone who claims to love Dean. He never approved of Dean's choices. He would never hand something so special over, he would want to be buried with it.

 

Unless….Alastair stole it. No, that's not it. John would have noticed, he would have gone looking for it like the crazy bastard he is.

 

He had to of coaxed it from John somehow……But how?

 

The man would never give the picture away, even if it were for one of his sons.

 

Sam grumbles, running his sweaty hands through his hair.

 

How?

 

There are a lot of questions he would like to ask that bastard.

 

Maybe after he get's some sleep he will pay a little visit to the county jail.

 

……

 

Alastair makes some calls to Rosco, and Brandon later that day.

 

He needs to make sure both Castiel and Sam are busy three days from now.

 

Can't risk getting caught now, can we?

.

.

.

.

 

…….

 

 

To love is ~~nothing~~..

 

To be loved is something..

 

To love and

be loved is

 ** _everything_** …

 

 

 


	36. twisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know how I feel about this chapter......But I hope you like it! And thanks again for all of the support, I would have never gone this far without it.:)

The dream is vivid.

 

The hallway in front of him is dim, the lights above flickering on and off, while some places are pitch black, where the lights went out completely. It smells of the sterilized hospital that he knows he fell asleep in, but with a slight coppery hint mixed in. The hallways are empty, not another person in sight. All desks and chairs abandoned, while phones still ring and computers still light up the darkest parts. The hallways are twisted, tilting one side to another, like he is walking on a moving ride. And there floors are melting? Or sinking, he can't tell, it's to dark.

 

He has no idea where he is going either, expect for his feet aren't under his control. They are steady and taking him up a dark lit hallway.

 

And then there's panic, somewhere deep inside of his chest. Something feels wrong….terribly wrong. Like he is itchy with fear and adrenaline, But his feet won't move any faster, he's stuck at a slow even pace.

 

The farther down the slanted hallway he gets the more the panic sharpens, and something dark fills his insides. He feels as though he is being watched, but there is no one around, not a single soul in this darkened hallway. And the only footsteps he hears are his own, mixed with the abandoned phones ringing that echoes throughout the large empty hallways.

 

It's dark for a moment, lights flicker like lightening a little farther down. But his footsteps have stopped, he has stopped in the darkest part of this place.

 

That's when he realizes that he Is standing in the open doorway of dean's room. The lights are dim just like the rest of the hospital. And the air it's thick, hard to swallow down in big gulps of breath. And the chairs, the chairs are knocked over, there's broken glass littering the floor, and papers scattered from the doctor's clipboard across the melting and tilting ground.

 

His heart speeds up, and a spike of adrenaline runs through his chest, there's a man standing next to Dean's bed with his back turned to Castiel. Tall. Skinny. He's wearing a black coat, with the hood pulled firmly over his head. Cas can't make out his face, or anything familiar about the man at all, just that the sense of wrong that fills his blood with poison.

 

He is blocking Dean. Only thing Cas can see are Dean's legs, at the end of the bed. He isn't moving as far as he can tell, his legs completely still underneath the hospital's blanket.

 

Then comes the echo's of Dean's crying. There small, quiet. Almost too quiet for him to pick out the words that are being said.

 

He jerks his legs, waves his arms, moves his mouth, but nothing works. He is frozen in his spot just inside the doorway, watching.

 

He watches as the man's broad shoulders jerk in a maniac laugh. As the demonic laugh echoes like the room is ten times bigger.

 

He watches as something is jerked from the mans pocket, and hears another loud cry come from Dean.

 

And this time he can make out the words. "Cas!"

 

He jerks again, and again In his spot, nothing happens.

 

So he yells, he screams out everything he can think of, every threat, every promise. And then he hits the magic words.

 

"Get away from him!" his voice is deep, the most menacing, and rage filled thing he has ever heard come from his own body.

 

The man in the black coat chuckles.

 

"You can't save him."

 

……

 

 

He jerks awake, his breath stuttering, and his heart pounding. He's drenched in sweat, and huddling even closer to Dean's tiny body. His arms tight around his still relaxed body, while he grabs handfuls of dean's hospital gown. Those last words echo through his fuzzy brain, once, twice, and then they stop. Nothing but silence and Dean's heart monitor machine fill the stuffy room.

 

Cas loosens his grip as though not to wake Dean, and lifts his head to see over his shoulder. It's still fairly dark outside, but the sun is starting to rise. Which at least means that he slept through the night. From the looks of it, he would have to say that it's around five in the morning, maybe earlier.

 

He groans, too early, but then again there is no way that he is going back to sleep with the chance of continuing his nightmare. No way in hell.

 

He glances down at Dean, thankfully he's still asleep and Cas didn't wake him. He looks as perfect as ever, with the worry lines smoothed out, and his breath coming in deep long exhales. Even as sick as dean is, he looks better than he did yesterday. The dark circles have cleared up slightly, and his skin as regained some of it's golden color.

 

Maybe it’s going to be okay after all.

 

_"You can't save him."_

 

Fuck. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, and untangles himself from Dean.

 

Very carefully, and as gentle as he can, he manages to get out of the small hospital bed without waking Dean. Once he's up, he stretches out his cramped muscles, his spine pops pleasantly and a yawn is pulled from his lips. Considering the nightmare, that is the best sleep he has had in weeks. Something about Dean does that to him, lets him sleep more deeply, and a hell of a lot more comfortable.

 

He glances down at Dean's sleeping form once more, and gives a warm smile. He pushes the blankets further up dean's chest, until he's covered all the way up to his shoulders. This is the first day that he doesn't feel the uneasy feeling rolling around in his head, like something bad is going to happen at any moment. The raw feeling still lingers inside of his chest, but not nearly as strong as it had been yesterday. Which could also be the fuzziness of sleep that's left over.

 

All he knows is that he is in no hurry to get any of the feelings back. It would be nice to just have one day to relax, with no surprises around the corner.

 

He presses a chaste kiss to Dean's head, and turns to gather all of his things from the chair.

 

His trench coat get's thrown over his shoulders as he's walking out. He makes sure to check his phone for anything that might be important. There's a message from Meg about him ditching her and Conner the other night, but once he tells her the reason she takes care of crowley and apologizes about a dozen times. Other than that there is nothing.

 

The air is cold as he pushes outside to the parking lot, he pulls his coat a litter tighter and takes longer faster strides towards his Mercedes. His car is still parked across two parking spots, from when he skidded in here like a maniac. Guess he forgot all about it, or just didn't care enough to move it.

 

He hops in, buckles his seatbelt, and takes his first look at the mess he has made. There are coffee cups still half full and over a week old in the cup holders. There are wrappers, paper bags, and even a bottle of whiskey laying inside. He has been more of wreck than ever, and never even noticed until now.

 

All that mattered was Dean. All that matters is Dean.

 

He just didn't realize how much he needed to take care of himself too, until now.

 

His car starts with a soft pur, the heater already on full blast from the last time he drove, and the radio still tuned to Dean's rock station. He smiles to himself, and turns up the volume to a song he doesn't recognize.

 

Then drives home.

 

………

 

One thing he was not expecting was for Sam to be there, and another to walk in to find him pacing the room while Gabriel holds his face in his hands while he sits on the couch.

 

As soon as the door clicks shut both pairs of eyes flash up to him.

 

"What’s going on?" he asks, twisting his car keys in his palm. Sam stops pacing, and comes to stand in front of him. "Alastair escaped from jail." Sam answers, both anger and fear in his voice.

 

Before Cas can answer, Sam continues. "I went to pay him a visit….and the guards say he managed to escape almost the day after he was admitted." He huffs and begins to pace again, while running his large hands through his hair.

 

"Fuck." Cas whispers under his breath. FUCK.

 

"How-" he cuts himself off.

 

"We don't know." Gabriel supplies.

 

He breathes in frustration "How did we not know this before?" he snaps, his eyes sharp as he flicks them about the room. "Sam, I thought that you said he was awaiting trial?" He muses, anger slowly bubbling up under his skin.

 

"Well…" he answers, dropping his gaze to the floor. Cas follows his jerky steps, squinting his eyes. "i….That's what I assumed." Sam answers finally throwing his arms up.

 

"That's what you as-" Gabriel cuts him off with the sharpness of his voice. "Castiel, stop. Let's not blame each other right now. We need a plan."

 

Cas huffs, and folds his arms over his chest. Sam beats him to it "Like what?"

 

"It’s not like we know where he ran off too. And we don't even know if he's in town anymore either."

 

He growls in agreement, even if they know now that Alastair is free it's not like they will be able to go out and seek revenge. Hell he could be clear across the state by now.

 

"As long as he's not a threat, I say we leave it alone." Sam thinks aloud. "We have no reason to go after him, unless we need too."

 

"Yeah, I guess your right." Gabriel chimes in, sending him a questioning look. "what do you think Cassie?"

 

"I agree." he admits, removing his coat and hanging it on the hook beside the door.

 

"But I won't be responsible to what happens to him if I ever see his face again." He says darkly toeing his shoes off and walking across the living room.

 

Gabriel chuckles, and Sam says something about 'not if he get's to him first' under his breath.

 

Cas ignores it in favor of a nice hot shower, and a change of clothes.

 

He thinks of all the ways he could kill Alastair, all of the painful things he could do to him. It would be like returning all of the pain he has caused Dean over the years. He can't even begin to imagine the torturous things he has done over the years. Judging from all of the pain and bruises he has seen in only three months proves enough.

 

But the thing that warms his chest is that he did as he promised he stole Dean away from Alastair's poisonues touch. He saved him. Not fully. But they are so close to winning this war, so close to having everything be okay.

 

 _"You can't save him."_  

 

_"His heart will eventually stop."_

 

But then again, no, they won’t have any of it, because dean is dying.

 

He's dying and Cas doesn't have a cure.

 

He still hasn't told Sam, or Gabe. He hasn't even decided what he wants to do yet either. And he knows that he doesn't have long to decide.

…….

 

He sits both Sam and Gabriel down at the kitchen table, and lets the news roll off of his tongue with numbness.

 

…….

 

Two days.

.

.

.

.

 

_I tried to hold on but it hurt too much._

 

 

 

 


	37. tore apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we are so close! yet so much pain lies ahead...Thank you to everyone who has supported and is reading this, I truly hope you had a good ride on my roller coaster of emotions. Thank you! thank you!

Anger flares like an explosive behind his ribcage.

 

He crushes the cell phone closer to his ear. "What?" he ground out through clenched teeth. There's an exasperated breath over the line.

 

"Castiel has decided to take Dean home from the hospital." Rosco growls back, wind making the line crackle.

 

Alastair clenches his hand harder against the steering wheel. "They must have figured something out." Rosco grunts back after a few minutes of silence.

 

"How!?" Alastair yells back. The crackle of wind gets louder against his ear.

 

"I don't know. Maybe you screwed something up!" Rosco yells back, muffled voices coming from the background.

 

"I didn't." His knuckles go white, and his heart rate speeds with adrenaline. Rosco sighs again, the voices stopping.

 

"The poison is undetectable unless you know what your looking for." He thinks aloud. The poison was purchased from one of his well trusted providers.

 

"Even then." he trails off, turning the car around the corner in a jerky movement. "I paid the Skylar bitch to keep quiet." Almost a thousand dollars to keep her mouth shut. Even then she was nervous and guilty. Maybe if he would have threatened her life? Then she might stay quiet, keep her god damn mouth shut.

 

"Then what? Did someone else see you there?" Rosco asks quick and breathy. Alastair growls.

 

"You think I'm that fucking stupid!?" The car skids to a stop, he throws it into park.

 

"Wel-" he starts. Alastair cuts him off with a sharp hiss. "Don't even fucking finish that sentence." He growls.

 

He looks over the broken house in front of him….still screams of Dean.

 

"fuck." He slams his fist into the metal of his car door.

 

Blood trickles down his knuckles, that feels good…."Did Dean…" Rosco huffs swearing under his breath. He presses the phone closer to his ear. "What!?" He asks eagerly, his eyes locked on the gush of blood from his bony knuckles. Should be Dean's blood running through his fingers….

 

"Fuck…Did Dean see you? Did he maybe tell Castiel about your little encounter." Static covers the line for a moment the wind picking up.

 

Did he? Could he have?

 

No. He may have remembered, but Dean knows better, Alastair beat that one into him, and he's pretty sure John did too. The little bitch would never tattle on master. Unless he wanted severe punishment, he's pretty sure Dean's not that dumb. He's dumb, but not that dumb…

 

And even if he did see him, would he remember? Alastair remembers the effects of the poison, and it would be some kind of crazy thing for Dean to be able to pay any attention while he was in that much pain. He's pretty sure the feeling of acid eating away at your insides, and trying to breath is way more distracting than him looming over you in the dark.

 

"Al?" the wind calms, and his friends deep voice erupts through the speaker. He pulls himself out of his own head. "Don't call me that." he snaps, that was Dean's nickname for him. He growls at the thought of Dean. "Would you fuckin answer me then?"

 

"I'll just have to finish the job faster than planned." It's not like Dean needs two more days, the bastard doesn't even deserve to be here. Let alone coddled by Castiel. Worthless whore, was all Dean was, and if Castiel didn't see that then he was obviously blind. To top all of that off, Dean is his.

 

"How?" Rosco sighs. "They're releasing him to Castiel today."

 

Alastair clenches his jaw, and watches more blood gush from his knuckle as he fists his hand again.  
"We'll just have to figure it out now won't we?" He presses end on his cell phone before Rosco can answer, and gets out of the car.

 

The gasoline is pulled from his trunk, and the matches are shoved into his coat pocket.

 

All of his and Dean's memories are burned to the ground, along with evidence that could put him away for a very long time. While shadows of flames lick at Alastair's pale skin. He smiles as the smoke wafts into the cold night air.

 

….

 

 

"Thank you. Goodbye Skylar."

 

Castiel hangs the phone up, and makes his way back out to the living room.

 

Sam has finally stopped pacing, but is completely mute as he sits on the chair across from Gabriel. Its only been an hour since he discussed Dean's situation, but Sam doesn't seem willing to talk about anything. He's been fidgeting with paper? For the last hour. And hasn't even been able to look up at Castiel since then.

 

Gabriel on the other hand…..well, he's Gabriel. He's still acting somewhat normal, except for the tiny glint of anger that flashes through him every once and a while. Which quite frankly scares Castiel a bit, Gabe isn't the type to get angry unless he has a pretty good reason for it. And this. This makes Gabe go quiet and face go still with hate.

 

Cas just feels…..numb.

 

He doesn't have enough tears left to shed.

 

Plus everything just seems unreal. Like this is all just a big nightmare and he's going to wake up with Dean sleeping safe and sound beside him. He knows it's not, but he still has hope. After all of the shit they went through, he still believes he can rescue Dean. That they will all have a happy ending. He doesn't know why he still holds onto this hope, but he does, he clutches it to his chest like it's his lifeline.

 

Even though Skylar specifically said there was no cure. That they couldn't find the cause. And that Dean was going to die within a matter of days. He still believed, he still hoped and prayed for this to be okay, for Dean to be okay.

 

He fucking deserves it.

 

After all of the shit he has lived through, suffered through, he deserves some fucking happiness. He deserves to feel what real love feels like. Deserves to feel safe, wanted, whole.

 

Castiel can't bare seeing the broken man he is now. He can't watch Dean suffer. He can't be powerless.

 

He doesn't know how, but he will fight for Dean. Until he can't fight no more.

 

Sam flinches at the sound of footsteps, clutching paper? He doesn't know. Tighter between his fingers, as Castiel walks fully into the living room. Gabriel turns around on the couch, and shoots Cas a look. "Anything?" he asks, his eyes that are usually so warm going cold and icy. Castiel shrugs "No. But I'm going to sign some release papers."

 

He's not sure if he should have added the last part. But they deserve to know his decision to bring Dean home.

 

Sam snaps his head up, but refuses to look over at him. "Your bringing him home?" His voice is small, he sounds so young, and afraid? Castiel tilts his head in confusion, how could someone so huge and intimidating sound so young and innocent.

 

He nods his confirmation. "Yes. I think it would be best for him to be somewhere familiar." He tugs at his t shirt before continuing.

 

"I'm not so sure Dean's safe at the hospital." His voice is smaller, hesitant. Not sure that he should bring up his own suspicions.

 

Gabriel furrows his brows. "Why do you say that Cassie?"

 

Sam shoots him a knowing look, then quickly looks back down to the object in his hands. Castiel shifts his stance, how does he explain that he is worried about Dean's safety? That he thinks someone could hurt him, and that he wants to be able to keep an eye on him all the time.

 

"Cas?" Sam chirps.

 

"I don't know…I" He stops. He what? He thinks this isn't an accident, that someone or something did this to Dean. He sounds crazy. Gabriel frowns up at him, and Sam shifts in his chair.

 

"You think someone's hurting Dean?" He starts in shock, and shoots a look over to Sam's puppy eyed face.

 

"Yeah." He answers hesitantly. How did Sam know?

 

Wait, maybe Sam thinks the same thing? Holy shit he's not crazy!

 

"How Di-" He breathes in deep, fiddling with his shirt again. Sam shrugs, and his face turns to stone. "I've been thinking the same. I just haven't mentioned it…I thought it was just me." Sam says, turning the….Cas squints. Picture, it's a picture, in his hands.

 

"What?" Gabe snaps, turning his wide eyes to Sam then back to Cas. "you guys think that someone is doing this to Dean, and you didn't tell me?" He gasps dramatically, Castiel rolls his eyes, there's that old Gabriel…

 

"What could we have done?" Sam says. "It's not like we know who's doing this."

 

Castiel nods.

 

"Come on you guys, really?" He huffs, one eyebrow raised as he flicks his hazel eyes between Cas and Sam. Castiel leans to the side a little, confusion as to what he's supposed to say to that. Gabriel looks at him as If he should already know all the answers. Sam huffs in frustration.

 

"There are only so many people out there that are a real threat to Dean." He points out, shrugging innocently. Sam and Castiel share a look. "Alastair." He whispers.

 

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" Gabriel yells.

 

"you really don't think it was a coincidence that he escaped around the same time Dean got sick. And now he's all of the sudden dying? Alastair isn't the type to forgive and forget. I'm willing to bet my left nut that this is his revenge." Gabriel says, hate glowing through his eyes again.

 

Castiel gasps. Holy shit. Gabriel's right. He has to be….

 

A cold shiver racks his spine. The feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong jolts through his body.

 

"I have to get to Dean." He huffs, spinning on his heal towards the front door. "Cassie?" Gabriel squeaks.

 

He grabs his keys from the table, and sends an apologetic look over his shoulder. "He's not safe there. I have to bring him home."

 

The door clicks shut behind him.

 

….

 

Alastair plucks the grey deadened flowers from their burning homes garden, and ties a black ribbon around them. He remembers Dean saying they were a symbol of growing love? Some stupid shit like that. He just smiled and planted the flowers along side Dean that day knowing that one day these would come in handy. Boy was he right, fucking fantastic way to break him a little further.

 

One of the flowers was already half blackened from the fire, which makes this even better. A little see you soon gift for his lovely whore.

 

That’s not the only thing he kept from the house either, of course. He had some valuable toys hidden away in there and there was no way he was going to let them go to waste. He's sure the next unlucky bastard that falls for him will like them a lot more than Dean did.

 

By the time he raided the house, poured gasoline across the carpet, lit the match, and plucked the flowers from the garden he could hear the faint sirens of fire trucks.

 

He smiled to himself, and watched the burning house disappear in his rearview mirror.

 

…..

 

He parked his black mustang down the street from the hospital, and tucked the flowers inside his coat. Once he made sure that he had the vial of poison in his pocket he made his way inside.

 

……

.

.

.

.

.

.

"A thousand times we die in one life. We crumble, break and tear apart until the layers of illusion are burned away and all that is left, is the truth of who and what we really are."-Teal Scott

 

 


	38. Giving up hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> song: so cold- by ben cocks

Dean hears the footsteps as they make their way down the hallway. He's sure Cas came back to check on him. He remembers him saying something about bringing some food back this morning while Dean was half asleep. But then again it's been dark outside ever since he woke up. Maybe Cas came back and he was still asleep? Maybe he's finally coming back with some dinner?

 

What time is it anyway? He can't make out the clock on the wall through the darkness. It has to be somewhere around midnight, because he had that nice lady come in on her scheduled nine o'clock to check all of his iv's and wires. That had to be at least three or four hours ago. He's been left alone with his thoughts for way too long.

 

Okay, so it's really late. He just wonders why Cas hasn't come earlier to check up. That man is persistent with his check ups. He has been asked way more 'are you okay' this week than he has his entire life. Castiel seems to always worry about him. Which felt good, it shouldn't, and he knows he shouldn't get used to it, but he likes it. It feels nice to be protected and worried about, even If it get's annoying sometimes. Even if Cas hovers like a mother hen, Dean likes it, hell he loves it.

 

Even that green apple scent that sticks to Cas is comforting.

 

He wipes the tears from his face, and turns his back to the door so he can stare out the window. The door clicks open, and groans as it's pushed open. Dean tenses on instinct, a long cold shiver racks up his spine.

 

It doesn't feel right. He's not getting the warm feeling he usually gets from Cas. What if it's not Cas? His body tenses, all muscles freezing at the thought.

 

What if it's not Cas!?

 

The door clicks shut again.

 

"Cas?" He squeaks. He holds his breath as best as he can while he waits for an answer. Please, please, please, he chants in his head.

 

Maybe it's just a nurse? But they never come in this late unless something's wrong. And even then they always make themselves known.

 

 

He tangles his fingers in his blanket, and does his best to look around the room for any kind of weapon. The lamp sits on the other side of the bed, but he doesn't dare turn around to make a grab for it. He can't make out anything else he can use. There's the visitor chair, the curtains, a couple of markers, and the doctors clipboard. Fuck.

 

The lock on the door clicks closed.

 

Dean's nails shove into his old scabs across his palm, blood trickles across his fingers. He swallows down the whimpers that keep wanting to escape his throat. He's not weak. He's not weak. He can do this.

 

But he still lays there, frozen.

 

Two footsteps sound in the quiet room, closer to him now, then stop.

 

Maybe it is Cas?

 

"Hello, Dean-o" the slithery voice calls out to him.

 

Fuck! Fuck! Not Cas! Not Cas!

 

Alastair!

 

Adrenaline starts through his body, and he launches himself off of the bed without thinking. His legs refuse to work and they buckle beneath him, sending him face first into the cold hard floor. Pain shoots through his head, and blood trickles through his nose. He sucks in a desperate breath, all of the air knocked out of his lungs. White dots cover his vision for a few moments, threatening to take over completely.

 

The sickening laugh echoes all around him. "Stupid boy." Alastair hisses, footsteps rounding the bed.

 

Dean sucks in a sharp breath, and pushes himself to stand. He wobbles and almost topples over again. His vision comes blurry, but he can see enough to start back from the large black looming shadow. He instinctively takes a step back and runs into the wall behind him. Fuck. Bad idea.

 

Alastair smiles at him, and takes one more step forward.

 

He whips his head around for a plan. If he jumped he could grab the lamp, but then he would be vulnerable until he gained footing again. And Alastair is fast, too fast.

 

He swallows down his whimper. And makes his jump for it when Al takes another step forward.

 

What he's not expecting is for Alastair to be close enough to make a grab for him. Long bony hands wrap around his arm, and tug him hard enough that he hears the pop of his shoulder joint. He stumbles back with a gasp of air and his back collides with Al's warm chest.

 

He starts to turn with his good arm, when Alastair's other hand wraps around his neck. He pulls his chin up so that his head rests on Al's shoulder, his neck bared. He has to stand on his tipy toes to hold this position without suffocating. His other hand comes up automatically to grab onto Al's wrist.

 

Alastair tsks, hot breath ghosting over Dean's neck. "So weak." He licks a long wet stripe down Dean's neck.

 

A shiver racks through his abused body, he squeezes his eyes shut. Alastair laughs again, and drops his wrist from his grasp. His arm flops uselessly to his side, fire shooting up his shoulder, dislocated. He hisses, and grabs handfulls of his pajama pants.

 

"Did you miss me?" Al whispers, running his free hand across Dean's working chest. All of this fighting makes his chest tighten and it harder to breath, who would have though it could get harder than it already is? It feels as though his face is smashed into a pillow and he's trying to breath through it while in his panic.

 

Dean shakes his head 'no' frantically. Fuck no. He did not miss this. Or him.

 

Alastair's hand crushes his neck, and pushes his head into his jutting bony shoulder. His feet and hands tingle as the white dots reappear. "That's not very nice of you Dean." He taunts, his hand wondering lower.

 

Dean whimpers, and grips Alastair's wrist tighter.

 

"That's too bad…" he hisses, his hand pushing dean's shirt up over his stomach. "Because I really missed you." he whispers, as his cold hand presses to Dean's bare stomach.

 

Goosebumps break out all over his skin, and he takes a deep breath as Alastair loosens his grip on his neck. "Where's your angel Dean?" He hisses, his fingers skimming his waistband.

 

Dean clenches his jaw, and turns his head as far from Alastair's as he can. Warm breath ghosts over his neck. "Why so shy?" He eggs on, a smile in his voice. Faint tremors run through Dean's body, and he digs his nails into Al's wrist. The blood from his palm drips from his bony wrist down onto Dean's white shirt.

 

Alastair chuckles, his chest shaking against Dean's back. He removes his hand from Dean's stomach and grabs a hold of his hand that is clenching his wrist. His hand is pried off of Al's wrist and brought up so warm breath ghosts over his bleeding palm. "These from my gift I gave you?" he practically moans digging his fingers into Dean's neck.

 

Alastair licks the blood from his hand, and growls deep and low inside of his throat. The vibration shakes through Dean's back, and he whimpers and scans the room in the dark.

 

He hopes Cas is coming. He promised that he would be back. He promised to keep him _safe_.

 

Alastair's growl get's louder, as if he could hear Dean's train of thought. He grinds Dean's wrist bones with crushing force. "Who's going to save you now?" He asks.

 

Dean refuses to answer, clenching his jaw as tight as it will go to keep from making any noise.

 

This only seems to piss Alastair off more, he moves his hand from Dean's neck to his jaw, and crushes the hollow of his cheeks hard enough for Dean's mouth to fall open and a sob to spill from his lips. "There he is." he chuckles.

 

He forces Dean's head to turn towards him. He squeezes his eyes shut as soon as he catches a glimpse of those cold dead eyes and wide animalistic smile. The things he avoided most in his nightmares.

 

Alastair presses his lips to Dean's and moans again. He grimaces and pushes away as best he can from Al. The warm iron taste of his blood is pushed inside his mouth along with Alastair's tongue.

 

He doesn't think, his brain going into overloud, he bites down as hard as possible onto Alastair's tongue.

 

"Fuck!" Alastair hisses, shoving Dean forward.

 

Dean stumbles a few steps, and manages to catch himself on the wall. Before he can lunge for a weapon again he is sent spiraling head first onto the bed. His head pings off of the metal railing, and his vision blacks.

 

Alastair is on top of him in a flash. He grabs a hold of Dean's dislocated shoulder and shoves him onto his back. Dean screams as white hot pain prickles his arm and chest. He's pushed the rest of the way on the bed.

 

As his vision clears he finds himself staring up at a furious Alastair settled between his stick like legs. He opens his mouth to scream again, but Alastair is ready for it, he grabs a hold of Dean's neck again and squeezes. He coughs and kicks his legs. "Stupid bitch." Alastair growls.

 

He takes a punch to the side, and another to his face, before he's gasping for any kind of air. Alastair smiles again, pure  **evil** and **blood** drips from his thin lips. He keeps eye contact with Dean the entire time. His eyes are cold, full of **hate** only.

 

His chest gives an especially painful twitch, and his heart feels like it's squeezed from everything he has left, at the sight of Something being pulled from Alastair's coat. He releases his grip on Dean's neck, and pulls the flowers from his coat.

 

He didn't think it was possible, not after everything, but he breaks. He fucking _crumbles_ to the ground with no fight left inside.

 

The flowers they planted together, the sign of their _love_. He promised as long as the flowers grew so would they. That they would be **forever**. The flowers would be a reminder of how amazing they were, of how much they loved and cared for each other.

 

And now as he stares at the half burned lifeless flowers. And he remembers the words that haunted his dreams, that tore his whole life down around him.

 

_"I don't love you."_

 

_"I never loved you."_

 

_"You are worthless to me."_

 

>>>>

 

_"I love you Dean." Alastair kisses into his neck, brushes his dirt covered thumb across his hand. "I will always love you." He whispers. "I'm so lucky to have you." He continues, pressing gentle kisses down his neck and shoulder. Warmth spreads through his chest, the butterfly feeling in his stomach kicks up a notch, and his heart practically pounds out of his chest. He lets the shovel fall from his fingers, and pulls Alastair's face up to his own. The dirt from his fingers smears across his pale blushed cheeks. Dean looks deep into those soft grey eyes, and he soaks up the warmth from them, the complete and utter love he sees there. "I love you too." he whispers back._

_Alastair lips spread into a huge grin, and he leans in, pressing the most gentle of kisses against him._

 

>>>>>

 

He chokes on the memory.

 

Alastair grins down at him, and sniffs the deadened flowers he holds in his hand.

 

"Symbol of our love." he hisses.

 

Dean chokes, and his vision blurs with tears.

 

>>>>>  

_"A house for us to grown old together." Alastair whispers against his ear. Dean smothers a grin as Al's hands come away from his eyes. The sun pokes above the house, the most gorgeous house he has ever seen. He can already see it. Him and Alastair growing old here, together, forever._

_"Forever." Alastair adds, interlacing their fingers together. Dean gives his hand a squeeze, and smiles, nodding._

_"Forever." he agrees._

 

>>>>

_"I love you."_ he whispers.

 

His jaw is crushed between Alastair's fingers. Alastair leans over him, his dead eyes locked onto Dean's.

 

"I. **Don't**. Love. You" He grinds out. Dean nods "I know." he whispers, closing his eyes.

 

He relaxes his body, and gives up.

 

He finally gives up hope and lies there broken.

 

The bed shifts, and then something cold and glass is pressed to his lips.

 

Something is sprinkled across his tongue, and he immediately understands. Poison. This is going to be the last thing he experiences before he dies. Before the one he loves, the one he thought loved him in return kills him.

 

He swallows down the powder, and faces his fate.

 

……

 

The wrong feeling amps up a thousand degrees. Castiel sets his jaw and speeds into the parking lot of the hospital.

 

The hallway tilts and spins, déjà vu hitting in full force. The cell phones ring and echo like before. People ignore his frantic state completely as he passes by. He walks from memory, until he turns down Dean's hallway. He freezes.

 

…..

 

The effects of the poison begin to work immediately. Dean's chest spasm's with frantic breaths, as he stares up at the stained ceiling with numb cold eyes. Alastair works his pajama pants down his legs, ignoring the faint whimpers and tremors that run through Dean's body.

 

Pain rips through every inch of his body, both from the poison, and from rejection. Every beat of his heart _hurts_ , and tears through the bloodied scars left behind. Every breath he takes feels _useless_ , _broken_. And his head fucking pounds with memories, flashbacks that make everything _hurt_ that much more.

 

He cries, he crumbles, and trembles. Tears pouring freely down his cheeks, sobs and whimpers escaping his lips with power between desperate breaths.

 

His legs are pushed apart, and his pants are thrown somewhere across the dark room. Alastair takes his place between his legs, with one hand on his bony hip, and the other intertwined with Dean's own. Which hurts more, hurts to know that he held his hand, kissed him to sleep, spewed lies from his lips, and did all of it with ease, a smile on his face. 

 

He never loved Dean. No. He sucked all of the happiness, hope, love, out of him. Dean is drained from everything that made him....him. The light he used to hold beneath his eyes has been ripped right out from under him. His eyes don't hold anything anymore, just large empty pools of hopelessness. 

 

He leans over the top of Dean, and smiles once more before leaning down and pressing one last kiss to his unresponsive lips. 

 

Dean almost believes the lie. He hopes that Alastair can take it all back, tell him that he did really love Dean. That he was just telling him that he didn't out of anger. 

 

Because he remembers all of the touches, the promises, and he believed all of it.....he still believes it. 

 

He was a coward for coming back to him. No matter how much Alastair said he hated him, he crawled back every single night and begged Alastair to take him back to forgive him, that he loved him. That he can't live without him. Because even though they had their downs, there were times when he truly knew that Alastair loved him. It can't be a lie, it can't.

Alastair buries himself inside of Dean, tearing that much more down around him. His rhythm is slow, his hips rolling in fluid motions as he presses deeper inside. He keeps every touch gentle, loving, even though he doesn't love Dean anymore. He's still sacrificing this...these last moments of Dean's life for his fantasy, his happiness.

Tears cloud his vision, and his breath turns shallow. He can feel the fading feeling in the back of his head and thinks, he's ready. he's ready to stop hurting, to stop crying, he's ready to lie down and just sleep.

 

He thinks about Cas. He thinks about his dad, his brother.

 

He tells himself that everything is going to be okay.

 

That they will be okay.

 

They will be able to move on from him. Forget about him. They no longer have to worry about him.

 

Not anymore.  

Alastair watches Dean's eyes roll into his head, and his body start to shake. He feels his heartbeat slow significantly. And he hears his breathing stutter and slow.

Almost time.

….

 

He's frozen to the spot, and something is Wrong…. But he can't make his feet move. He can't bare the sight he knows is through that door. He can't live without Dean.

 

He won't.

 

Cas cocks his gun in the empty hallway, and starts forward. That dark rage he has always held back explodes, his eyes darkening to almost pure black.

….

 

.

.

.

.

.

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" ** _Perhaps someday I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow." -Sylvia Plath._**


	39. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally. we are near the end. thank you so much for all of the comments/kudos/bookmarks. It means so much! and I love reading the comments! the favorite part of my day! I haven't decided what I am doing with Dean yet either....so we'll have to see:) please, please tell me your thoughts on this:)
> 
>  
> 
> song: one last time- by- Jaymes Young

Alastair watches the light from Dean's eyes fade, all the life sucked away from his hollowed out cheekbones, his sunken dark circled eyes, the color from his cheeks fading to nothing. His lips fall open as tiny gasps escape his struggling body. He can feel the spasm and clench of his muscles as he thrusts inside of his poison filled body. His heart rate slows significantly, almost everything beginning to shut down around him.

 

He's close, so close. His hands run over Dean's stomach, his tiny ribs sticking from his skin, his jagged collar bones. Everything flutters under his cold touch, flawless pale skin stretched before him. His marks, his claim mark Dean's torso, neck, legs, and face. All of their past marked across his once golden skin. All of his great memories, his art. Dean will die marked as his, and only his.

 

No one else can take that away from him.

 

And the best part is, he gets to watch the life leave Dean's broken eyes. The light will be chased away and dragged back into the darkness, with all of his demons watching over him. Castiel will never have what's his, he will never see Dean the way he got to. The way he laughed, the way he lit up the world, before Alastair crushed him, and took the light away. Only darkness lies beneath.

 

And as Dean dies, so will his hope. His reason to live is ripped viscously from his bony shaking hands.

 

He never understood. That Alastair controls his fate, he decides when he dies, he decides If Dean will ever be happy. Dean will never be the same, even if he did survive. Because he doesn't know how to anymore. Without Alastair Dean is nothing.

 

Castiel has these hopes of saving Dean. Loving Dean. Living happily ever after.

 

It's not true though, none of it.

 

Because there is no way to save him now.

 

Tears still spill from those green sightless eyes. His cheeks shining with them, as his body is rocked back and forth against the sheets. Alastair buries himself further, licking the sweet blood from his lips with a moan. He rolls his hips once more, then spills himself inside with a growl. He grips Dean's hand, smearing blood across the bed beneath. While his other hand wraps around Dean's thigh. He's almost gotten skinny enough for Alastair to wrap his finger all of the way around his small thigh and touch his fingers together.

 

He gives another growl at the thought. This is exactly how he imagined the end to be. Perfect.

 

Dean whimpers beneath him, his fingers giving a twitch against Al's. He whispers incoherently, and Alastair shushes him. He leans over the top of Dean, his hand resting against his tear slicked cheek, and puts his mouth to Dean's. _Softly_. He pulls back with a sad smile, and wipes the tears away with his thumb. Dean's eyes lock onto him, barely anything left. But Al can tell he's still there, barely.

 

He locks eyes with him, and smiles again.

 

 _"I love you."_ he whispers, then pulls back, and out of Dean.

 

He tucks himself away, and stands next to Dean's bed. Looking down at him, with his hands tucked in his coat.

 

Dean sobs tear violently from his hoarse throat now. His body shakes, and he reaches blindly for Alastair again. He begs, and cries for him. He tells him he's sorry. He tells him he loves him. But Alastair stays silent, and watches just as little more light leaves Dean's eyes.

 

……..

 

It's just like the nightmare, as he walks down the hallway. Both fear, and anger tear and fight with each other, switching around in his gut and trying to take over his panicked state. He doesn't know what to expect as he moves numbly down the dim hallway. He doesn’t know what he's going to see when he walks through that door. And he sure as hell doesn't want to find out. But his legs keep moving under adrenaline's control.

 

His shoes tap and echo down the abandoned hallway. He's sure the walls are shrinking, that he's being closed in on from all sides. He almost wobbles along like he's drunk. The walls tilt with his dizziness, and the floor slants and shakes underneath his steps. The phone at the nurses station rings, just like the dream. And no one is to be seen on this entire floor. Which makes everything that much more suspicious.

 

Before he can process that he's in front of Dean's door, he twists the handle and stops. Locked. Who would have locked it?

 

His heart rate picks up, and darkness blows his brain into overdrive. The wrong chilling feeling has him twisting the silencer onto his black 9 mm.

 

Fear is blown away as the **darkness** comes out to play. He takes aim at the silver door handle, and pulls the trigger. The sound of metal clanking to the floor has him smiling with power.

 

The door groans and creaks open, revealing nothing but darkness behind it.

 

To his horror it's just like the nightmare. The tall man in the black coat looms over Dean's hospital bed. The clipboard and papers scatter across the floor. Sheets from Dean's bed kicked to the floor, along with his hospital pants. Only thing missing is the broken glass. Castiel stays completely still as he asses the scene.

 

He couldn't tell who the man was in his dream, All of it was too blurry, too messed up and dark for him to make a lot of things out. But he knows now. Alastair. Just from the slimy evil feeling that travels over his skin, he knows.

 

And it sends the dark feeling spiraling up into flames. Hate fills his blood. And murder echoes through his head.

 

Castiel stalks forward, his coat billowing and flapping behind his jerky steps. He sets his jaw, and locks his eyes on Alastair. He grips the gun tighter in his hold his finger already locked on the trigger. He seems to sense him, because Alastair's shoulders straighten and tense. Castiel raises the gun, and places the barrel to the back of Alastair's head.

 

"Don't. Move." He growls, nudging the the gun a little more firmly against his head.

 

Alastair chuckles, raising his hands in defeat. "I was wondering when you would show up." He hisses.

 

"I was worried you wouldn't show up." Cas shoves the gun against his scalp, a low growl escaping his throat. He let's his eyes wonder over Alastair's shoulder, where Dean lies. His chest gives a painful twinge at the sight of him. Dean shakes, and whimpers, his eyes locked onto Castiel now. Cold, dead eyes tracing his movements. He flicks his eyes back to Alastair, and nudges him with the gun.

 

"Well, I'm here now." He grinds. "Move away from Dean." he commands without missing a beat. He shoves at Alastair, until he stumbles back from the bed. He keeps the gun aimed at him the entire of the time. Alastair flicks his eyes over the gun like he's surprised. Castiel just gives him a grin, and shoves him up against the far wall.

 

He doesn't miss the way Alastair flinches from the pressure in his chest. The barrel is shoved under his chin, and clicks with each swallow the bastard takes. Alastair nose flares in anger, and he chuckles.

 

"You can’t save him." He whispers, keeping a smug grin across his features. His eyes go dark, and lock with his own. Cas grimaces, but keeps a firm hold on the gun. He shoves it deeper into his pale skin, and glares.

 

"Watch me." He growls, setting his shoulders higher.

 

Alastair chuckles again "Your not going to kill me." he taunts.

 

Castiel shakes his head 'yes'. Because yes, he is, and he is going to enjoy every second of it. He's been waiting and promising himself this moment long enough, it's time to take action.

 

Something seems to flicker behind Alastair's eyes, fear maybe? And he tenses underneath Castiel's touch. "You don't have the guts." He whispers, skeptical as his voice wavers the tiniest bit. Castiel raises his eyebrow, and squeezes the trigger harder. "Don't tempt me." He replies, is that his voice? Holy shit. It sounds nothing like the caring man he knows himself to be. It's dark. It screams murder.

 

Alastair snaps his mouth closed with a click, and eyes Castiel warily. His eyes falter and fall on Dean behind him, Castiel plunges the gun into his throat. "Don't look at him!" he snaps as Alastair chokes and coughs. His grey eyes snap back over to Castiel's and he glares.

 

"He's mine." Alastair whispers, dragging in a desperate breath through clenched teeth. Castiel sees red, and growls, fucking growls, low and possessive in his throat. **"NO**. He's not." He declares, his chest giving another painful twitch. "Dean does **not** belong to you."

 

That earns him another chuckle from Alastair. His lip twitches and he snarls at Castiel. "Well, he's definitely not yours." he points out, blood dripping down his chin. Castiel follows the red stickiness, and frowns. He didn't notice the blood covering Alastair's chin.

 

Alastair seems to catch his gaze, and smiles. "He tasted so sweet." He whispers, leaning his head closer to Castiel's. His foul breath grazes across Cas' cheek. He grinds his teeth, and shoves Alastair back against the wall with a crack. "Quiet." he orders pressing the trigger with a little more pressure.

 

Alastair flinches, but other wise keeps his stance, and eyes cold as he stares down at Castiel. His bloodied lips turn into a smirk and he sighs. "You should have seen him." He says longingly.

 

Cas' brow furrows. "The way he took my cock." He breathes. "The way he whispered that he _loves_ me." Castiel flinches back from the words, but keeps the gun to Alastair's throat.

 

 **"He took it."** He whispers. " **All of it**. Without a single complaint." He hisses.

 

Castiel's skin burns, his raw chest twitches, and the darkness takes over. Tears burn his eyes as he squeezes the trigger. Alastair pushes against him, wrestling for the gun, but it's too late. Castiel get's the gun pointed in the right direction and it fires.

 

Blood blows across his face, and the white wall get's splattered with chunks of skull and tissue.

 

Dean screams in agony behind him.

 

He blinks the blood out of his eyes and stands, frozen. He stares down at the gaping hole in Alastair's head.

 

He's faintly aware of the _'no's'_ and the _'please'_ being shouted behind him.

 

_What did he do?_

 

His ankle is tugged and his legs slip out from beneath him. He lands with a crack on his side, and blinks the dizziness away as he looks around for an explanation.

 

Alastair blinks down at him from his sitting position, half of his face is missing and blood drips down onto his shirt.

 

Castiel screams, and crawls backwards, his back hitting the visitors chair. He squeezes his eyes shut. The gun he is holding is shakily raised again and he shoots Alastair a second time. Double tap. More blood explodes from his barely recognizable face, and his body slumps in a gory heap.

 

Dean's screaming stops abruptly, and he stops to turn back and look over his shoulder.

 

He struggles to his feet and over to Dean's convulsing body. The gun clatters to the ground with a bang, completely forgotten. He grabs a hold of Dean's shoulders and pulls him into his arms. He's faintly aware of the tears running down his face as he clutches Dean to his chest. He holds his head still against his shoulder, and tangles the other in Dean's shirt. Dean whimpers, and squeaks, his hands doing there best to grab a hold of something. His legs flop, his arms dangle at his sides, and his chest shakes violently. "It's okay." He breathes, over and over again.

 

Dean doesn't seem to hear him though, not anymore. His eyes roll into his head, and his heart monitor screeches beside them. Dean's body falls limp in his arms with one last whimper. Castiel clutches his limp body, attempting to keep upright from the sudden weight of Dean against him. "Dean?" he whispers, his voice wet with tears.

 

No answer.

 

"Dean?" he repeats, worry kicking up in his voice. He shakes his head in disbelief. No.

 

No answer.

 

Castiel pulls Dean back, and looks at his pale unmoving face. His eyes are closed, and his face is lax. He shakes Dean's shoulders in frustration. His head snaps back and forth with the jerky movement, and Castiel stops shaking. **"Dean!"** he screams, tangling his fingers even tighter in his bloodied shirt.

 

No answer.

 

" _Dean_?" he whispers, a sob ripping itself from his chest.

 

……

.

.

.

.

.

The day that I heard that you wouldn't survive another day, was the day that part of my heart was ripped from my chest. And that part has never been replaced, because I'm afraid once I replace it I will forget about you. I'm afraid the memories will slowly fade away. I'm afraid of losing you even though you’re here on earth anymore.


	40. Chapter 40

Time comes to a halt, the world spinning slower with realization. The air crackles and tightens, going quiet around him. Everything seems to stop, pause for a moment. Deafening silence enveloping his skin and sinking him further into the quick sand. 

The only thing that gets through the fog is Dean's unmoving body clutched against his pounding chest. The only heartbeat he hears is his own, pumping desperate blood through his ice filled veins. His lungs work through the dry air with difficulty, pushing out and against a cold still chest, then sinking back in with raw pain.

His hands begin to numb with the tight hold he has on Dean's shirt. Knuckles white, and blunt fingernails digging into his palm. But he can't bring himself to let go, because if he let's go then this will become real. And he'll have to watch Dean fall, this time without catching him. He wont be able to steady Dean upon his feet again. He won't be able to see his eyes flutter open, and his lips spread into a grin.

He's scared of what he will see, the truth, the ending of his war. Even though there was barely any life left inside Dean's eyes near the end, he can't make himself stare into those eyes again, those cold hopeless dead eyes. He won't accept it. He won't. 

How he didn't see this coming baffles him. Because it was so obvious, yet he was so worried with revenge that he failed to see Dean fading right before his eyes. It's failure that claws him apart inside. He could have stopped this. He could have prevented all of it. Yet he was blinded with his own rage, and didn't see any of this coming. 

Alastair still won, and with a smile on his face no less. 

He's faintly aware of voices coming from further down the hallway. He pays no attention, he could care less if someone saw the bloody mess he has made. Or Alastair's dead body slumped across the red stained floor. As always all that matters now is Dean. As long as he has him in his arms he can protect him, he can save him. Anyone that tries to hurt him has to fight Castiel first. 

He pulls Dean in closer to his constricting chest, buries his nose in to the crook of his neck with a sigh. "It's going to be okay now." he promises in a whisper. Dean's head falls back in an awkward angle, his sightless eyes stare up to the ceiling. Cas carefully brings it to rest against his shoulder, Dean mirroring his position with his nose tucked into Castiel's neck. His fingers run through dean's sweat slicked hair, pushing the loose blonde strands away. 

He almost doesn't notice that there is no warm breath pushed from Dean's lips or nose against his neck. He chooses to ignore that as well. Dean's cheeks are still wet were it pushes against his exposed flesh, tears gone cold and sticky, sticking against his brown stubble and rubbing against Castiel's neck and jaw. He presses his trembling lips to Dean's pulseless neck. The press of his lips stays longer than it should, but he keeps his lips against Dean's neck a couple seconds more. Hoping to feel a pulse start up underneath his lips, he knows it's crazy, but he still has hope. 

He buries his nose back into his neck when he can't hold his lips there any longer. No pulse. No heartbeat. He shivers uncomfortably, and takes all of Dean's scent he can through his nose. His own face is damp with tears, quickly soaking Dean's white shirt and neck. He ignores the distinct scent of Alastair that still remains on Dean's skin. Focusing only on the smell of leather and…..something much deeper, muskier, lingering on the Dean scent. It relaxes him. Makes him feel warm. Like home. 

His ears ring with the screeching monitors, sound coming through his barrier for a brief second. Cringing violently, he burrows further into Dean's scent, ignoring all noises indicating Dean's state. He expects the nurses to be here at any moment. 

Castiel rubs circles into Dean's back, careful not to hit his protruding shoulder blades or ribs sticking from his sickly body. Another thing that he chooses to ignore. He closes his eyes and imagines the old Dean, the one that smiled and laughed. The one that teased him for not singing along in the car. Or being able to watch horror movies without nightmares. Dean even fixed his tie most days, declaring that Castiel couldn't himself. That's the Dean he remembers. 

He chooses to forget the Dean he is cradling in his arms. Not out of disgust, but a way to keep himself calm. He can't even begin to think about the situation without wanting to curl up and die himself. Dean is too broken, and it shows across his skin now, Castiel just can't take the spikes of pain he feels when he sees Dean like this. Plus if he thinks about it, then it's real, and he's not ready for that realization. 

Light floods the room like lava, and he squeezes his eyes more firmly shut against the sting. No, it's too soon, they can't take him away. The buzzing of the lights above is too loud, the faint golden color leaks through his eyelids and disrupts his darkness. 

He pulls himself a little tighter to the cold body in his arms, and breathes in Dean's scent. "It's okay." he murmurs against the tightness closing his throat. "You're going to be okay now, Dean." His lips feel numb around the words, but they spill out without his permission. A need deep inside of him urging him to comfort Dean, let him know that he's here. He's here and everything is going to be okay. "I love you." he adds, mouthing the words repeatedly into Dean's cold skin. 

The heart monitor goes quiet, plunging everything down around him a little further. His eyes flutter open, and dart across the room. Light singes into blurry lines, tears blocking his vision as he looks over Dean's shoulder. Just barely peaking over the top of his shirt, deep blue eyes wide and afraid just above Dean's shoulder. As he looks for the threat that's trying to take Dean away from him. 

He can't see much seeming as how he is mostly facing the wall. But he can hear, he can hear shouting. And clanging of metal, and rolling of wheels, and Skylar. Skylar is here to help. He remembers. He should probably let go of Dean so that she can help…..

But he can't. he can't make himself move away, or untangle his fingers from the hospital shirt. He can barely even breath. And the thought of Dean being taken away makes his grip grow tighter. Dean's head falls to the side with shifting of the bed. His shoulder presses down on Castiel's, and his head hangs next to his bicep now. His stubble scratches and burns when the bed shifts again. Dean dangles like a rag doll in his hold, Cas has to gently shrug and push Dean's head back on his shoulder, where it belongs. 

Time is still moving so slow. As if it has been a day, which in reality it probably has only been a couple minutes. 

Firm hands grab a hold of his wrists, and pull to untangle his fingers from Dean's shirt. Another set of hands squeeze his shoulders, but stay much softer than the ones holding his wrists, and tug. He feels his hands give and fall from Dean's back. He struggles to put them back, but they are held firm and at his sides. The other hands tug with more insistence, he pulls back with a screech. 

Dean's body is falling away. He's falling! Castiel has to catch him, he needs to hold him. He needs to save him!

His chest expands with panic, and he struggles against the hands. Everything is still blurry with his tears when he blinks, when he tries to see his attackers. Another pair of hands join in, and he is pulled away with a sob racking his frame. He watches Dean's lifeless body fall to the bed. His eyes wide with dull pain, his arms flopping to the mattress. He's horrified by the sight of Dean before him. He hadn't noticed before of just how bad this was. How real this is.

Dean's legs dangle off of the side of the bed, blood running from the insides of his thighs and dripping loudly onto the sheets and floor. His hospital shirt covers the worst of injuries up higher, but the idea of Alastair fucking Dean while he was dying sends a sharp spike down his spine. He wants to kill the bastard all over again. Slower this time. 

Bruises already show against his pale freckled skin, around his thighs, wrists, arms, and neck. Swelling to his jaw, and blood dried under his nose. Wetness still lingers across his cheeks, mixing with the blood from his brow and nose. His palms lay face up and covered in blood from the puncture holes left from thorns. 

The bedding is an equal mess of bloody handprints, and rustled sheets. 

But the worst of it all is Dean's eyes. No light remains behind the green. And he stares lifelessly up at the ceiling, his lips slightly parted with the shine of blood across his lips. 

This makes his death real, this makes everything shatter. 

Dean is dead.

He's barely aware of the scratchy feeling in his throat as he screams, screams with everything he has left. His soul, his heart, his fucking pain, all of him is given up through his blood curdling scream. The world spins around him, and he stumbles off the side of the bed. His hands find purchase on the sheets and cling like a vice. He won’t leave Dean, not again, never again. His hands are ripped from the sheet and he balls them into tight fists by his sides. He watches frantically as he's pulled a little farther away from Dean. He chokes back another scream and swallows the ball of fire in his convulsing throat. 

He's tugged back by broader hands, under his armpits. And stumbles to stand as he's dragged back from Dean. The hands are persistent, but he's not fighting anymore. He lets himself be dragged back towards the door, with nothing more left to give. Nothing more to sacrifice, because he lost. He crashed and burned within Alastair's hell fire.

His eyes never leave Dean. Even as he's jostled and dragged away, he keeps his gaze locked onto the strange green eyed man from the bar. 

Skylar sends him a sad look, standing next to Dean's bed with her eyes puffy red and hands tucked away in her pockets. She frowns at him once more, Before snapping back into action and hollering orders to the scared looking nurses surrounding her. Everyone jumps into action.

Dean's shirt is cut from his chest, and nurses surround him with tools Castiel ignores. 

"It's going to be okay, Dean. Because I love you." he whispers.

The door cuts him off from the room with a deafening bang. 

…..

When the clock resting on the wall declares it to be after midnight, Gabriel begins to worry about Castiel. He taps his fingers restlessly against their kitchen table and stares at his phone in his hand. He has attempted to call, and text Cassie, but every time he gets no answer and an awkward voicemail. 

It's not like him to ignore Gabriel's calls, well, unless he's working. Gabe is pretty damn sure he didn't launch out of the apartment to get to work. Something is either terribly wrong, or……well that's it, that's the only reason he can muster for ignoring his phone calls. 

He had a bad feeling about this from the very start, but didn't dare try and stop Cas in his angry filled haze. Plus Dean needs him…..but if it meant for his brother to be in trouble, or worse, get injured, then he would have no problem handcuffing Cassie to a toilet and letting fate take it’s role. It's a horrible thought, he knows, but Castiel is the only family he has left. The only family that cares about him at least. Without him, Gabriel wouldn’t be were he is today. 

Sam had left about an hour ago, somewhere along the lines of "I need a drink." Yeah that's it, he went out to get shitfaced while Gabriel worries like a mother. Fuck. What has Cas turned him into. He's sure Castiel is fine, the man can handle himself. The whole wrathful thing he does is more than enough to protect himself. 

Gabriel sighs, running a hand down his face. Fuck it. He's going out. Hell if he knows where but he can't sit here worrying any longer. 

He grabs his coat and shuts out the lights behind. 

……

*Present day*

People who have never been abused often wonder why a person wouldn’t just leave. They don't understand that breaking up can be more complicated than it seems.

 

Ÿ Fear: Your friend may be afraid of what will happen if they decide to leave the relationship. If your friend has been threatened by their partner, family or friends, they may not feel safe leaving.

Ÿ Believing Abuse is Normal: If your friend doesn’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, perhaps from growing up in an environment where abuse was common, they may not recognize that their relationship is unhealthy.

Ÿ Low Self-esteem: If your friend’s partner constantly puts them down and blames them for the abuse, it can be easy for your friend to believe those statements and think that the abuse is their fault.

Ÿ Love: Your friend may stay in an abusive relationship hoping that their abuser will change. Think about it -- if a person you love tells you they’ll change, you want to believe them. Your friend may only want the violence to stop, not for the relationship to end entirely.

****

The laptop screen falls dim, adding to the darkened room around him. He's spent too long staring at the blurring words across it's screen. Even as the information sits on the still screen, he can't bring himself to exit the page. Almost hoping for all the answers he's been looking for too appear in front of him. Like this will make everything better again. It's not, he knows it's not, it's a silly thought to even think that it would have been that easy. 

He is aware of his cell phone lighting up and then fading dim beside him, while he sits on the rustled sheets of his bed. But he can't bring himself to move, or answer the persistent calls from his brother.

Now that he has failed, he can't find the will to move, or care about anything happening around him. Even as the neighbors send warning knocks against his apartment wall, yelling for him to keep it down. He can't. And he continues to cry while the speakers of his stereo beat a rhythm against his ears.

Long ago He'd come across this page, after hours of searching the internet for answers. And stopped dead in his tracks when he read the first couple of paragraphs. He felt the knife drag down his chest and stomach, piercing his heart when the words became real. 

He'd tried to understand, tried to reason. And most of all he tried to save. He felt useless, a failure.

All he wanted to do now was lie down and let the darkness to take over.

…….

Dying is a lot like falling, falling into deep darkness, spiraling into nothingness.

But the best part, is the peace. He can finally feel….okay. All of his pain, all of his past seems like a long, long time ago, and it no longer hurts, or tears into him. God, it feels fantastic. And he can breath, he can breath with such carefree ease that he wants to scream for joy. This. This is what he was chasing when he tried to take his own life two years ago. The light he has been searching for, he finally found it, and it's glorious. He bathes in the feeling. 

That is until he's ripped away from his piece, tugged back into the light with a jerk. The pain flooding back, along with his memories, feelings, and love. 

Dean's vision clears with abruptness, the light's singe, the people above him cheer, and the heart monitor beeps beside him. His lungs feel with air, shredded by glass. And his fingers twitch were they lay across the bed. 

He sinks back into the bed with exhaustion, pulled under into deep sleep and darkness.   
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

Don't lose hope.  
When the sun goes down,  
the stars come out.


	41. Chapter 41

As soon as Dean's eyes fly open, relief spreads through Skylar's body. "Thank god." she whispers, everyone around her cheering in victory. Dean was gone for nearly seven minutes. The heart monitor comes to life with a steady heartbeat, and his raspy breathes fill the damp room. She doesn’t know what she would have done if Dean didn't survive. She doesn't think that she could have lived with herself after that. Guilty as she is.

Alastair was so convincing when he convinced her to keep the poison a secret. She was desperate, and took the money without second guessing. 

Keeping this a secret was one of the biggest tasks. The tests she ran, some of them weren't even delivered to any one else, they would have shown traces of the poison. Some of the medicine Dean was required to take was thrown away or hidden. Even the food delivered to his room was laced with poison most of the time. And she couldn't risk that, not after being threatened ten times over. Her family wasn't safe from those monsters, she wasn't safe, so she kept it in and tried her best to act normal. 

When she used to come in and check on Dean, his state got worse. He got skinnier, he got paler, and more and more incoherent the more she visited. Eventually she stopped, the guilt became too much, and she had other nurses check in and give her reports on Dean. It did very little to stop the feeling deep in her chest, but it helped. 

And then there were the times when the crash cart was brought in, close to five times actually. When that happened she had no choice but to see Dean in his suffering. Every time she went in with Dean gasping and shaking, she thought that today might be the day. The day when Dean finally gives up. But Alastair was psychotic with his revenge plan, he decreased the poison to such low doses that Dean would have no choice but to suffer. 

Dean fought though, he fought a lot harder than most people she came across. Even towards the past couple of days, when he was hopeless and completely mute, he still fought. 

Sometimes when she would have to face him, she would have the panic feeling of what if he knows? In her chest. It drove her crazy, to the point where she thought that Castiel could see right through her, with those intense blue eyes. She thought for sure that he knew when she told him that Dean would eventually die. His eyes locked on her with the most intense gaze she has ever had to hold. She had almost broke down right then and there and told him everything. 

Luckily she hadn't, because Castiel's eyes turned soft and then he was out the door and running down the hallway. It hurt to watch such suffering, and the way it affected his family and friends. It hurt to take the money being placed on her desk and watch Alastair smirk devilishly. 

Her stomach tightens, and she glances back down to Dean's hazy confused eyes. The green there is as dull as she has ever seen it before. His lips pull down in a frown when realization hits. He curls into himself, and closes his eyes from the world. Then he's gone again, sleeping off the shock his body is trying to overcome. 

"You did great Skylar." comes a male voice beside her. She turns, and gives a small smile back to her friend. "thanks, so did you." he nods, and gives her a pat on the shoulder before turning and cleaning up the room. Most of the nurses have cleared the room, and coroners stand in the doorway, frowning down at the bloody mess. She frowns over at them, and takes a few steps where Alastair's bloody body lay. 

His face is unrecognizable, with how much of it was blown across the wall. In chunks of skull, hair, and skin across the white wall. Blood spraying up as far as two feet above of how tall she stands. The floor is just as bad, it looked more like a massacre then one murder. She sighs and takes a step back from the rather large puddle of blood. The two men in the doorway watch her closely as she walks over to them, and straightens her coat. 

"We'll need a report of cause of death…even though it's pretty clear. But just because of the amount of blood I would like to know what happened." the older man eyes her as he pulls the younger wide eyed man behind him, past her, over to where the body lay. 

She pages janitors to clean up after the body is disposed of, and makes sure to tell them just how bad the mess is. Then she turns to the few nurses putting everything away in the room. "We are going to need to transfer Dean into another room. This room will be off limits for a while until it is sterile and safe." the two woman nod their understanding and get to work. 

She helps unhook Dean's iv, and monitor from his chest and arms. Seeming as how most of them were ripped most of the way out the past hours. A gurney is brought in by Alecia, and Dean is transferred over. "He'll need clean sheets and a change of clothes." she states firmly, Alecia nods and rolls Dean out of the room. 

Alastair is zipped into a black bag, and rolled out a moment later. She lets out a sigh, and watches him go. 

In the hallway stands a man, one she has never seen before, staring at the bag with wide teary eyes. He has to be about Dean's age, maybe younger. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and a small frame. His hands are tucked away in his pockets, and he shifts back when the gurney rolls past. 

She furrows her brows and steps towards the man slowly. He seems to notice, because he flinches and turns away down the hall. She walks faster out of the room, but the man is already gone. 

……

Later she gets the report for Alastair. Seems he was shot twice. Once the first time just below the jaw, the bullet completely missing his brain and resulting in his face being shredded and blown off by the bullet. Then twice through his eye socket, finally piercing his brain and causing death. Which would explain why there was so much blood, and why his face was the way it was. 

……

His phone lights up for the thousandth time tonight, raising him from his exhaustion induced sleep. He curls up further into his blankets, and shuts out the buzzing beside him. He is no mood to feel, talk, or even move. Nothing matters anymore, he just wants to lay down and die. The buzzing continues beside his leg, for almost a full minute before it stops. He tucks his nose into his pillow, and pulls the blankets up to his chin. Thank god.

His phone lights up again, the buzzing returning. Castiel grumbles, and squeezes his eyes shut against another flow of tears. Gabriel needs to stop, if it was so important he can drive his ass home and tell him. Otherwise he is not going to answer. 

Eventually the noise stops. And he mumbles his thank you's into the chilly air. 

Only to start up again a few seconds later. He's going to kill him. He doesn't care that Gabe is just worried, he needs to be left alone. Alone and in the dark, forever. 

He grumbles as he sits up in his dark room. He kicks the blanket from his legs and reaches for the beam of light that is his phone. He squints as the too bright screen is lifted to his face. His thumbs stumble to slide answer, but he eventually gets it right and hits it. Gabriel's voice is loud and frantic as he realizes that he finally answered.

"Cassie!" he huffs in relief. "Where are you?" he adds quickly. Castiel grunts his existence, but doesn't answer the question. 

"What's wrong?" his voice changes, going softer. He runs a hand through his messy hair, and his breath hitches with tears. So this was going to be harder than he thought. 

"Cas." he all but whispers now, the background noise getting quieter. He blows out a wavory sigh, and wipes the tears from his blurring eyes. 

"Dean." he sobs, covering his mouth with his hand. There's another voice coming through the speaker now, someone speaking softly with Gabriel. He hurdles into himself, pulling the blanket along with him. He tucks his nose into the calming smell, and closes his eyes. 

"What about Dean?" Gabriel asks, fear breaching his voice. 

Castiel sobs again, pressing his face further into the blanket. The line goes quiet, and more words are exchanged. 

"cas, you need to listen to me." his brother commands. He grunts in permission. Gabriel takes in a big breath and blows all of his words out at once. 

"That's why I have been trying to call you. Skylar said that she tried but you didn't answer. The police are putting the murder as self defense. And Dean….well, she was able to revive him."

Castiel's head pops up. "What?" he squeaks. Gabriel huffs. "Dean is just fine, Cassie." 

Holy shit! Castiel stumbles out of his bed, shoving his shoes on and throwing his trench coat over his shoulders. "Cas?" Gabriel chimes. 

"I'm going to check on Dean." he stumbles through the door, and locks it behind him. Gabriel huffs a laugh over the phone. "Okay." 

"Goodbye Gabriel." He doesn't wait for an answer, hanging his phone up and shoving it into his pocket. 

Holy shit! Holy shit! Dean is just fine. He's okay. How did that happen? It seemed like he held him forever in his arms, cold and lifeless. How could he be okay? 

Who cares how. Dean is okay, that is all that matters. He sniffles, and wipes the tears from his eyes. The weight he hadn't even knew was there, lifts, and he can breath. The raw feeling is still there, but his happiness out does all of it. 

Dean is alive. 

Dean is okay.

Dean Winchester is saved.

…….

His mind slowly comes awake, haze of medication and pain make him muddy and slow. He starts with wiggling his fingers and toes, okay. Then he lifts arm, and shifts a leg, pain shoots through his lower back immediately, but other than that okay. He opens his eyes next, squinting against harsh yellow lights above, his pupils dilate and adjust. The room is blurry for a moment, then slowly everything comes into focus. 

He licks his lips, and clenches his jaw as he looks around the backwards room. Did they switch him to a different room? He guesses so, judging from the more tan color of paint, and a small couch pushed against the far window to his left. Along with a bathroom left of that, closer to him. He moves his head to the other side of the room. There's two visitor chairs underneath a white bored, his name written in blue across the top. 

He feels heavy….like he's been filled with sand. What the hell did they give him? He feels fucking fantastic. And numb, blessedly numb. Even the feelings that are banging at the door to be let in, are numb. "Awesome." Dean whispers, or mumbles incoherently like he's drunk, but still….Awesome. 

"Dean?" comes a small male voice, one he doesn't recognize. Or he's just too high on whatever they pumped him full with and can't remember the voice. Wait, how do they know his name? 

He flips his head towards the doorway, a little too quickly that his vision swims for a moment. He strains his eyes towards the shadow just inside his doorway. "Dean Winchester?" the man squeaks, taking a small step forward. Dean flinches back on instinct, and swears at himself for doing it. He digs his nails into his cut palm to keep him grounded. 

His vision clears enough for him to see a head of blonde hair, and a smaller body holding the brown eyed man. Those eyes squint at him "Are you Dean Winchester?" his voice snaps, louder and more impatient. He digs in a little harder and nods. "Yeah." holy shit it hurts to talk, his throat is so raw from screaming, like he decided to swallow some shards of glass for half and hour. 

"Alastair's…." the man stumbles, unsure of what to say. A stab of pain through his chest and a flash of blood accompanies that name. He shuts his eyes, and wills the tears away. The man clears his throat and continues. "Boyfriend…I guess." He snaps frustrated. How the hell is he expected to answer that question? 

Dean opens his eyes again and glares at the man, with all of the hate he can muster. How dare he come in here and ask questions that are none of his business. The man folds his arms against his chest, and returns the glare to Dean. 

"I'm going to take that as a yes." he grinds out, stepping a little closer. Dean keeps the glare in place, and watches every move the twitchy man makes. He sighs, and looks over his shoulder, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Answer me." He doesn't have to answer jack squat. He clenches his jaw closed, and narrows his puffy eyes. 

The man sighs again, switching his footing, and throwing a look over his shoulder towards the doorway. "Answer me." he grinds out again, his face twitching with fury. Sounds like a threat. "You threatening me?" He replies, an eyebrow raised. The man steps back, looking confused now. "No i."

Dean cuts him off "Sounded like a threat." he snaps, smirking to himself. The man huffs, and throws his hands down to his sides. "I'm not threatening you!" Dean chuckles, then quickly replaces his glare from earlier. Brown eyes squint down at him again. "Please, just…" he mumbles, running a hand over his face. 

"Yes or no?" he asks, looking up with red rimmed eyes. Dean picks at the blanket covering him, and chews on his lip. Alastair was….but now? After all of this? Was he even worth ever being called that. Dean shakes his head "No." he mumbles, taking a deep breath. "Not anymore, I mean." he adds, to make things clear. 

The man lets out a sharp humorless laugh, placing a hand over his mouth. "Okay." He whispers, looking past his shoulder again. "Okay." he says again, wiping at his red eyes harshly. "How long?" he suddenly asks, his voice more high pitched and afraid. Dean looks up confusedly, how long? 

"Two years." He answers. The man chokes, repeating two years over and over again under his breath. He looks like he doesn't believe Dean, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

Dean waits silently for more, but nothing ever comes. Why the hell did he want to know? 

……

Castiel rounds the corner to the nurses desk, and steps up to it with his hands in his pockets. The lady filing through some papers looks up from under her glasses, raising an eyebrow at him. "Can I help you?" She asks, standing straighter. Castiel nods. "I'm Castiel Novak, I'm looki-"

She takes in a sharp breath, and nods cutting his words off. "Dean Winchester." she finishes, typing something into her computer. Castiel nods and steps back, glancing down the hallway to his left. "He's in room 215, Mr. Novak." He looks over at her surprised. "Thank you." He mumbles, taking his left towards the second floor. She smiles up at him, then continues to type away on her computer. 

It feels nice to be walking down a new hallway, like none of the horrible stuff ever happened. LIke he can just forget all of it, and move on with his life. Which brings him to think, how did he get away with murder just 12 hours ago? What had Sam done to get him off like that, and so soon. He knew the kid went to Stanford, and was training to be a lawyer but Jesus, that fast? How?

Castiel chuckles to himself, and watches the numbers count up, until he stops in front of 215. This is it. He turns inside and stops. Who the hell is that man standing next to Dean. 

Dean's eyes pop up to him, and his lips spread into a grin. Oh god how he missed that smile. Castiel smiles back, the man seems to notice Dean's behavior, because he flips around and stare wide eyed at Castiel. He furrows his brows at the crying man, and starts forward. His protective mode on overdrive. Dean seems to go back to staring at the window on the other side of the room, completely ignoring them. 

The man looks around, and tries to slip past Castiel and into the hallway. But he catches him by the arm, and leads him out. The man makes a hurt noise in the back of his throat, and tugs back the best he can from Castiel's tight hold. 

Once he has dragged him far enough down the hallway, where he can't be seen, he pushes the man against the wall. His palm goes flat against his chest, and he leans in to whisper. "What the hell were you doing in there?" He hisses. The man whimpers, and shakes his head frantically. 

Castiel growls low, and pushes the smaller man more firmly against the wall. "Who are you? And why were you in there?" He grinds out. Tears run down the man's face, but he manages to stay quiet. Cas gets more frustrated, and makes his touch painful against the mans chest. 

He seems to give because his next words come out in a rush. 

"I wanted to know who Alastair was cheating on me with." 

……  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
I'll explain the infinite, how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.


	42. Chapter 42

"What?" Cas blurts, reducing his grip on the man's chest. How could Alastair have had someone on the side without Dean knowing? Sure, the bastard was sneaky, but cheating with another man? That had to be a full time thing to keep a secret, especially if this man didn't know about Dean either. 

He seems thrown off by the question, he raises his eyebrows and squints at Cas. "I suspected he had someone on the side, an-" he shrugs, and flicks his eyes over Castiel's shoulder. Cas completely lets go of him, and takes a step back. He's amused by the man's, or more likely the boys choice of words. Dean, being the side man? Is that what he really thinks? Alastair barely let Dean out of his sight, let alone left the house to go anywhere. 

Dean was always watched. Babysat like a kid. How did Alastair even have time to see this other man? And why would this man think that Dean was the side. 

Castiel narrows his eyes, and steps far enough to the side to block the man from leaving. "Dean, a side?" he questions, tilting his head. The man looks thrown off again, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down to the ground. "Yeah, Alastair had to work a lot, said his job called for him. Sometimes to different states, and for extended amounts of time. But there was always one place he was visiting more than the rest, here. At first it seemed normal, but more and more he would leave for 'work', and stay for months. Especially these last few months." He shrugs again, lifting his eyes to Castiel again. 

"Work? Really? And you believed him?" There goes his mouth again, saying things without his permission. He get's another look from the man. "Of course, I trusted him." he says it so confidently, lifting his nose into the air. Castiel raises his eye brows and huffs a humorless laugh. "Right." he returns, running a hand over his face. 

"What?" the man says frustrated, raising his small frame to look more intimidating. Castiel sighs, and shifts his stance. Trusted him. He trusted the evil bastard. Which leads him to believe that this man had it a hell of a lot better than Dean did. From the looks of him, he's never had a bad experience with Alastair, unless it's hidden somewhere underneath his clothing.

"Did Alastair ever hurt you?" he asks, squaring his own shoulders to stand over the man. He looks down to the man, and presses his lips together. The man physically jumps back from the blunt question, and stares at Castiel in disbelief and disgust. "No." he snaps glaring even harder up at Cas. 

He sighs, "Your sure?" he prods. The man looks even more disgusted, glaring up through his eyelashes. "Yes, I'm sure. Alastair would never lay a hand on me, not even when he was angry with me. We loved each other and would never hurt one another like that. He usually left to blow steam off when he got angry." He grinds his teeth, and looks over Cas' shoulder again. 

Cas' stomach rolls, he steps even closer to the boy before him. "Where did Alastair go when he was angry?" Fuck, there goes his mouth again. Something he really, really does not want to know. Because he knows that the answer will just make him hate Alastair even more. He clenches his jaw, and watches the man like a hawk. He stops for a moment, his brows furrowing, and his brown eyes flicking over his shoulder again. 

The man sighs, shrugging like it's nothing. "He went to work." he says honestly, looking up to Cas confused. The answer hits like a ton of bricks, of course he went to 'work', because work was Dean. And Dean was a way for him to release anger. Fuck. He wants to kill the bastard again, and again. The more he finds out, the deeper the darkness opens up. "I imagine going to work meant he went to Dean?" the man snaps, folding his arms over his chest. 

Castiel turns cold eyes over to the man, and crowds him up against the wall. Fuck this guy for thinking Dean had it better than him, and wining about Alastair leaving when he was angry. He gets another confused look, he's starting to think that's just his normal facial expression. Castiel keeps his hands to himself, clenched into white knuckled fists beside him. "You think that's something to be jealous over?" He snaps back. 

"I-" the man stutters, shrugging. "What do you think Alastair did when he visited Dean?" he questions, raising a brow. The man presses more firmly against the wall, and swallows. Castiel flicks his head to the side, "You think it was all fun and games?" he presses. 

The man shakes his head, looking past Castiel again. "I don't know." he whispers, raising pleading eyes up to Castiel's cold glare. "you don't know?" he mocks, opening and closing his fists. He's met with silence, as the man searches for an answer. Cas huffs again, keeping his glare locked with the man. 

"How do you think Dean ended up here." he gestures around them. "In the first place." he finishes, waiting for an answer. 

The man shrugs again, looking completely terrified and confused. "An accident." he mumbles, looking up to Castiel. He laughs at the answer, no humor whatsoever in his voice. "Try Alastair." he whispers, his smile falling completely. The man startles back, and shakes his head disbelievingly. "No." he growls, pushing against Castiel's chest. 

He steps aside for the man, and watches him stare for a brief second. "Alastair would never hurt anyone. He. Did. Not. Do this to that….man." he clips out, turning the corner with a huff and a mumbled disbelief. 

Castiel runs his hand through his hair, and makes his way back to Dean's room in silence. Of course he hadn't believed Cas, the man had the good side of Alastair his whole life. He has no reason to believe the things that were done to the 'side' man. And he also has no reason or right to deny it, when he can clearly see all of the evidence in that hospital bed down the hallway. 

Why is the man even here in the first place? Sure his boyfriend was just murdered, but did he really need to question Dean while he was here. He has no right to be in the same room with Dean. Especially asking about Alastair. That is the last thing Dean needs right now. Castiel is going to make sure that he's not aloud around Dean ever again, he doesn't care that he was just curious, and wanted to see the man Alastair was cheating on him with. He will not. Be aloud anywhere near Dean. 

Castiel rounds the corner into Dean's room. And immediately his chest loosens, and warms like a fire, a smile spreading across his features. He still can't believe that Dean's alive, and awake no less. This is the best thing he could have ever wished for, Alastair dead, Dean alive, and safe. He knows it's going to take a lot of time, medication, and talking for Dean to be okay again. But he's alive, that's all that matters right this second. He's alive, and he's smiling back at Cas from across the room. 

Castiel speed walks across the room, and scoops a tired and medicated Dean into his arms. All air leaves his chest with the happy sob he gives. Dean wraps his arms around Cas in return, and squeezes him against his chest. "Hey, Cas." Dean whispers, giving a small laugh, and running his fingers through Castiel's messy black hair. "Hello, Dean." he answers between happy sobs. He pulls Dean closer, until he can feel his heartbeat, hear his breath, and feel his warmth. All of the signs he couldn't find before. All of the signs the signify Dean's life. 

He doesn't even realize he's crying until Dean pulls back and wipes his tears away with his thumb. He gives Cas a warm smile, and cups his face between his hands. The bandage across his palm scraping against the whiskers on his cas' Cheek. He keeps his smile in place, wiping more tears away with his finger tips. "I love you." Dean whispers. 

Castiel doesn't have time to tell Dean he loves him too, because lips cover his own. Soft and warm. Dean pulls away again, and gives another little smile. He let's his hands fall from Cas' cheeks, to his shoulders. And he pulls Cas towards him, with a happy grunt. He let's himself be pulled down to the bed, and watches as Dean yawns and lies down more firmly. He curls up to Cas' chest with another yawn, and fists his hands in the front of Cas' shirt. 

"Night, Cas." he whispers. He smiles, and wraps his arms protectively around Dean. "Goodnight, Dean." He whispers back, pressing a kiss into his too long hair. Maybe he'll ask Dean if he wants a haircut tomorrow. But not now, this medicated Dean is happy, and content. And Castiel is happy to just hold him while he sleeps. 

Not even a minute later Dean's soft snores fill the room. It doesn't take Cas long to follow, the exhaustion and stress from this whole day pulling him under into sleep. 

…..

Alastair's smile widens devilishly. The darkness around them messes with his vision, making his grin even more terrifying. His teeth shine against what little light escapes the blinds, to the point where they look like fangs. His eyes watch, and track Dean's every movement. The wild, and evil little glint flashing behind cold grey eyes. So much blood is lost, that he believes he sees his bony features morph into something much more terrifying. His hands grope and squeeze every inch of Dean's bloody skin that they can reach, leaving large almost black bruises behind them. His nails feel sharp against his over stimulated skin, like razor blades raking over his thighs, stomach, back, and neck. 

His lips feel like hot sandpaper against his, a slimy dominating tongue invading his slack mouth. While he gives what little pleas he has left. Dragging enough breath in for tiny raw screams, and gasps that Alastair pulls from him. He smiles when Dean screams, he laughs when Dean cries, and he plunges in even deeper when he pleads. He's pounded furiously into the cold concrete floor, lifted up and into Alastair, then slammed back down again into his own bloody puddle. The smell of iron is almost too much in the damp basement, it feels his burning lungs, and makes his stomach queasy. 

His mind reels in and out of existence the longer this goes on. He can’t decide if it's scarier inside of his head, or outside. Both seem equally terrifying, there's demons in his head, and a demon torturing him outside. So either way he is followed, and watched. His head bobs when he's asked to lift it from the concrete, his vision swimming worse than before. Alastair tells him to keep it up, and not to move. But Dean's eyes wont stay open, and his head won't stay under his command. The darkness is threatening to take him under again. 

Alastair tsks him every time his head drops to low to the ground, and gives him a firm squeeze and thrust. It's only about the third punishing thrust, that Dean's head drops to the floor with a crack. Pain shoots through his skull, and he cries out as loud as his bleeding throat will let him. His vision only gets worse with that, and he has to shut his eyes to keep from getting too dizzy with the spinning room. He's faintly aware of Alastair commanding him to pick his head back up, but it’s like a buzz in the back of his head, and he ignores it. 

Which was a bad idea, of course. Because the next thing he knows, he's screaming as white hot pain rips through his stomach, and lower back. It doesn't dull any as Alastair wraps a hand around the back of his neck, and lifts his head himself. Dean makes a grab for his hand, his stomach flipping with the room and his vision. But Alastair grabs his wrist and digs his claw's into the soft skin and veins underneath. He throws Dean's bleeding arm to the concrete, and wraps something cold around his neck. Dean hears rattling of buckles, and then something tighten around his neck. 

Alastair drops his head back to the floor, and smiles down at Dean. Pain doubles in the back of his skull, and he feels something warm drip across his hair. Alastair guides his hand to his neck, and Dean's fingers are pressed against a leather collar. Fuck. He digs his fingers underneath the piece and pulls. He doesn't belong in a fucking collar, he doesn't want a collar. Alastair rips his hand away, and gives his wrist the same treatment as the other one got. He drops his arm to the ground with a slap, and buries himself further inside of Dean. 

He tells him how beautiful Dean is in a collar, he tells him how good of a dog he will make, and he grinds even harder into Dean with every praise. His stomach rolls, and his nose flares as he tries to take calming breaths. If he throws up all over Alastair….oh god, he doesn't want to know what kind of punishment he would get for that. So he swallows, and he breathes, as best as he can with how much pain he's in. Alastair snaps his pocket knife open again, the snap of it so familiar to Dean's ears. And fucking giggles like a child at Christmas as he tears his present open.

Dean's skin opens just as easily as his legs do, and blood flows from his chest, to his ribs, dripping onto the ground. His screams empty his chest, and bounce around the basement walls. His eyes droop, and his head lolls across the dirty concrete. He's almost positive now that he's gonna puke. He swallows down bile, and flexes his hands over and over again. Alastair seems to notice this action, and nicks his abdomen repeatedly, until Dean's sure that he's ripped to shreds. Blood runs down his sides freely, quickly adding to the mess that was already underneath him. Alastair shoves himself as far as he can into Dean, the blood spurting faster each time he shifts inside of him. 

Salt from Alastair's fingers sting against the new cuts. He presses his fingers into his soft shredded skin, and roams across his stomach until he finds the bulge of himself inside of Dean. He grunts, and spills all over inside of Dean with a filthy moan. He massages himself through Dean's bleeding skin, and smiles down at him with a glint in his eyes. Pain shoots through him one last time, and he chokes and coughs. Strings of spit dangle from his lips, his head refusing to stay still as he shakes and attempts to hold the rest at bay.

'I love you' Alastair hisses, his warm breath suddenly against his ear. Cold chills run down his spine, and he shivers under Alastair's touch. 

"I don't love you."

"I never loved you." 

The words screech and tear through his throbbing head, echoes of the past and present mixing with his unpleasant memories. He does puke then, everything he managed to keep down that day comes right back out. He doesn't realize he's dreaming until his eyes come open inside the dark hospital room. He raises as quickly as he can on his hands and knees, and attempts to scramble away from Cas as he vomits underneath his shaking arms. It's like acid coming from his throat, and nose. His eyes water when he looks at the mess he made across the sheets. 

He's faintly aware of Cas murmuring to him, and massaging circles into his tensed back. Dean leaves his mouth open and sobs as soon as the choking stops enough for him to drag in a breath. Spit drips from his wet lips, and onto the mess. His arms shake and threaten to collapse completely. His stomach still spasms and clenches, trying to remove everything from him. 

Castiel wraps his arms around him, and takes him away from the mess as carefully as he can manage. Dean stumbles with difficult shaking limbs, and Cas holds him tighter against his chest so he doesn’t fall. He manages to turn around in Cas' arms, and he buries his face into his shirt. His arms hold Dean more firmly, and he lets him cry while a nurse rushes inside the room. Castiel calmly tells her what's happened, and she leaves to get someone to clean up the mess. 

……

He feels like Dean might fall apart with how hard he's shaking in Castiel's arms. The smell of vomit fills the air around them, and Castiel briefly wonders what could have caused this reaction from Dean. But he doesn't ask. He just holds Dean tighter, and kisses the top of his head. He feels like he can't hold Dean tight enough, he can't wrap him with his protection as much as he would like too. If Dean feels safe in his arms, then he's going to hold him the best he can. Because judging from the way his eyes widened in disbelief when he turned around in Cas' arms and saw who was holding him, he's pretty sure that Dean needs to be coddled right now. He needs to feel safe.

Castiel glances over at the door, wondering where the nurses are with the cleanup. And his eyes catch those wide brown eyes and a mop of blonde hair staring back at him just inside the doorway. He doesn't try to hide the state that Dean's in, or cover him from the mans state. NO. He lets the man see what his perfect boyfriend has broken. The so called 'wouldn't hurt a fly' man, he truly thought the one he loved was. The man stands, frozen, staring over at Dean. 

While Dean burrows in even closer, and cries. Castiel snaps out of his 'I told you so' state and starts to comfort Dean. He kisses his head, massages his bony back, and murmurs against his ear. Dean chokes again, and his knees give from underneath him. "Hey, hey. Dean." he whispers, attempting to pull his small body back against him. Dean shakes his head and grips the front of Cas' shirt as he pulls him to the ground with him. They sink to the floor slowly, Cas taking all of the weight so that Dean doesn't just fall to the hard floor. 

"m' sorry." Dean mumbles, against his chest, leaning more heavily against him. "You have nothing to apologize for." he mumbles back, kissing his sweat slicked hair. "It's okay." He adds. Dean sobs again and shakes his head. 

"No it’s not." He whispers incoherently, Castiel's not sure if he's talking to him, or someone else inside of his head at this point, but he nods anyway. Or, perhaps, he's talking about generally, which makes Cas' heart sink, and stinging come to his own eyes. 

The nurse arrives with some janitors, and some fresh clothes for both of them. She tell him that they are going to take Dean to get cleaned up while the room is cleaned. Castiel nods, and tells her thank you. 

Next time he looks up, the man is gone from the doorway.   
…..  
,  
,  
,  
,  
,  
"Loving someone that doesn't love you is like reaching for a star. You know you'll never reach it, but you just got to keep trying."


	43. Chapter 43

October, 7, 2012.

Large stone sized raindrops beat across the small red Corolla's windshield. Playing their own rhythm atop the cracked glass in front of him. Black wipers barely seen in the moonless night fog, they move at the quickest setting they have. Combined with speed and weather they don't do much to help him see the abandoned road that lie in front of him. The tiny car sputters and the small bare tires squeal against wet gravel as he increases his speed. Pressing the peddle all the way to the floor with his steel toe boot. 

He pushes down the growing lump of anger and despair down, hiding it in complete darkness somewhere far away in the back of his mind. The burning in his eyes gets worse with the more time that passes. Just the fact that he is speeding away from them, his life, his family makes it worse. The headache pounds harder behind his blurring vision, his heartbeat adding to the drumming song of rain. 

He has no idea where he is going, just that he needs to be far, far away from them. From Dad, from Sammy. They don’t need him anymore, they don’t want him anymore. Sam left him, John hated him, what more was there to stay for? What more did Dean have to live for? Family was, is, his whole life, his existence and responsibility. His reason to live has ceased to exist now. We all know who John's favorite son was, and it became crystal clear when Sammy ditched them and told Dean not to contact him anymore.

So clear that Dean was in hell, his very first marks making themselves known across his body, along with demons to torture him in his head. He was trapped, and worthless according to John. Also according to John Dean was a waste of space, he was the reason Sammy left, the reason mom died, and the reason john was miserable. And he believed it, every last drunken slurred word thrown at him was true. He was worthless, he did more harm than good trying to take care of his father. And without Sammy he had no reason to be around anymore, Sam didn’t need him anymore. He was all grown up and ready to face life without his high school drop out big brother by his side. 

Sam didn’t need him.

John doesn't want him. 

Anyone that loved Dean was dead now. 

Only thing he sees now is a reason to end it. 

The tires squeal again as he pulls around back a nameless small motel. Brown brick illuminated by the blue glowing sign out front. Trees swarm the surrounding area, along with overgrown bushes and weeds. He parks in the shadows of overgrown trees, hiding the small car as best as he can beneath them. He kills the engine, headlights plunging him into complete darkness. He doesn't waste any more time. He grabs his gun, checks the clip, and steps into the unforgiving rain. The gun feels right in his palm, familiar in a way that comforts his constricting chest. He recognizes the tightening there as fear, something he is ashamed of and always tried to hide from his father. 

Rain soaks into his hair, and runs down his grey t shirt. Already soaked from just the few minutes he has been outside. His feet follow a trail off of their on accord, it's small and muddy, but hidden well enough for his use. Slowly the black mass that is the Corolla disappears behind him. Complete darkness surrounding him once and for all. Dean doesn't go far, because it only takes a couple seconds for realization to hit him and send him to his knees with a squishing sound. The gun cradled to his chest, now a muddy mess underneath his weak knees. 

A sob wracks his shivering frame, and he struggles to drag in much needed air. He barely hears his anguished cries over the pounding of rain. He doesn't know who or what he is crying out for anymore, all he knows is that it hurts and he wants so badly to take the hurt away forever. Even if that means taking his own life, just to get some peace and quiet. He raises the gun to his temple with shaking, wet, numb hands. This is it, this is how he's going to end. The great Dean Winchester. His father would be proud. 

Dean cocks the gun, and squeezes his eyes shut.

Then stops at the sound of footsteps. 

His eyes fly open, searching the darkness in front of him. Trees mess with his mind, everything looking like a person. Tree limbs looking like human limbs, rain sounding like someone moving around him, and moving leaves catching his gaze when they twitch in the wind. There's the distinct sound of snap, crunch footsteps slowly making there way closer to him. 

"Hello?" a tentative voice calls out, slithery and deep. Twigs crack as a shadow emerges from the shadows. Tall, is the first thing Dean notices. Then skinny, older, kind of creepy, but somehow comforting. He tightens his hold on the gun, pressing it deeper into his temple without even noticing it. This man will not take his paradise away, no way in hell. 

"Go away." he growls back, shouting over the loud rain, and pressing his raw back against soggy bark. The shadow comes closer emerging further into Dean's space. Clearly unfazed with Dean's actions. His hands raise in an effort to show Dean that it's okay, that he's not going to hurt him. But Dean retreats further, spewing curses and threats towards the stranger.

"fuck off!" Dean yells through his raw tight throat. It's too dark for him to make out the strangers face, so the man wouldn't be able to see his red rimmed eyes, right? The man takes notice of the gun when he takes another step towards Dean's crumpled form. Just the slightest sliver of light coming from the park lights. Dean can now make out a slim structured face, and dark eyes that cling to the gun held in Dean's hand. 

"I said, Fuck off!" He tries again, no answer from before. Dean thinks that he should point the gun towards his direction, or get on his feet and back further away from the man. 

Danger! Screams through Dean's head, but he still sits frozen, keeping the gun held to his temple. He watches as the man kneels next to him, close enough that Dean can feel his hot breath across his fore head. He flinches when a cold hand wraps around his wrist, the other coming to rest on Dean's shoulder. Dean's faintly aware of hushed words coming from the man's lips. Aware of the DANGER that tears through his fogged head. But he feels far away, like he's watching himself from outside of his body. 

Bony fingers grip his wrist tighter, while warm grey eyes search his face with a knowing look. Dean sits oddly still as the unknown man pushes and forces his hand to lower into his lap, the gun taken away from his head. The man takes it from lax muddy fingers. All the while keeping eye contact and hushing promises that Dean can't remember. 

Last thing he remembers is the gun being tucked in the mans waistband, then darkness, and warmth.   
\-------  
November, 7th, 2012. 

It doesn't take long for darkness to be replaced with love. Only a couple weeks with Alastair and he knows that this is the best thing that has ever happened to him. He has forgotten about John, stopped worrying about Sam, and moved on with his life. Hell, he even scored a job at an auto shop near his apartment. 

Everything was perfect. Especially with Alastair in his life now.  
\------  
January, 1st, 2013.

The day he and Alastair officially live together. 

The most perfect house for the both of them. 

They spent all new years night sitting on the porch with a bottle of wine. Talking about the future. Their future.   
\------  
January, 24, 2013.

Dean's birthday, the best birthday he has ever been given before. The day Alastair gave Dean the picture of him and Mary. One of the only birthday's Dean remembers. Treasures.

\------  
February, 14th, 2013. 

Valentines day marks the very first day Dean was worshipped. His and Alastair's very first time making love to each other. The first time Dean felt the difference between fucking and making love.   
\-----  
April 20th, 2013. 

Then comes the very first time Alastair hit him. A great big black eye that he apologized for that night. Dean forgives him, and lets his body be used by the one he loves.   
\-----  
May, 2nd, 2013. 

Sammy's birthday was a hard one. He tried at least ten times that day to call Sam and tell him happy birthday. But he must have been busy because he didn’t answer nor did he ever call back. Also the day that marks the second time Alastair hit him. Again apologizing that night with kisses and promises upon Dean. He believes him, again.   
\----  
June, 5th, 2013. 

The first time Alastair get's rough with him. Uses handcuffs and unleashes a panic attack from Dean. The fear of being pinned down and helpless. After begging Al takes them off and storms out of the house, leaving Dean naked and half used across the bed that they share. He doesn't apologize.   
\---  
July, 18th, 2013. 

Dean's mouth gets the better of him, and he experiences Alastair's anger head on. Black eye, busted lip, three broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. Once again he refuses to apologize for something that Dean brought upon himself. Dean agrees and apologizes instead.   
\----  
September, 1oth, 2013. 

The first night Dean cries himself to sleep. Also the first night he was forced to take his punishment, for something he did wrong but doesn't recall doing. Alastair coming back from his trip from work, and claimed that Dean needed to be punished. He was angry. He forced Dean into the handcuffs and kept him there no matter how much he begged and panicked. But in the end he took the punishment, for whatever he did, he's sure he deserved it. 

Alastair doesn't return home for two weeks after that. And when he does return he appears with apologies and flowers. Dean forgives him.  
\----  
November, 17th, 2013. 

John Winchester's death. The first time Dean fights back, also the last time he fought back. Dean never sees John's grave, neither was he allowed to attend the funeral.   
\---  
Somewhere near December, he thinks.

Dean experiences the dark side of their house, the basement. The day he's dragged back up the wooden stairs from the days or maybe even weeks he spent in punishment in the basement. He's skinny, starving, cold, tired, broken, sobbing, and apologizing to Alastair for everything he did. 

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry Al."

"Please."

"I love you."

He murmurs over and over again until his raw throat can't take it anymore. Until Alastair is annoyed and leaves him spread out across the bed, leaves him there for a week to defend and fix himself. 

Al comes back with no apologies. But more rage that he decides to take out on Dean.   
\---  
From all of the days Dean wasn't able to make into work, he was fired from his job at the garage. Alastair having yet another reason to hate him.   
\----  
Time doesn't seem to matter anymore, it all blurs into days of hurt. Every hour spent in fear of saying, doing, or looking wrong. He waits for Alastair to come home, and he waits for the ruled out punishment of the day. He doesn't try to keep track of what he did wrong anymore just takes the punishment.   
\---  
No more apologies are wasted on Dean, neither are I love you's from Alastair. He feels the emptiness open inside of his chest again, and he suddenly has the urge to lift the gun to his temple once more.   
\----  
The one day he has the courage to lift the gun again, he is caught red handed, by Alastair. Punishment is gruesome that night, he ends up beaten so badly that he's rushed to the emergency room with internal bleeding. He wakes alone in the same hospital room for several days before he is taken back home. Alastair immediately throws out any pain medication that was given to Dean. As punishment for his actions.   
\----  
Dean squeaks when Alastair raises his fist to him. His body curling into itself, and his eyes dropping in submission. The knobby bones of his spine poke uncomfortably against the hardwood floor of their hallway. Alastair shakes Dean like a ragdoll, his head bobbing with such force that he hears the crack of his skull against the floor. This happens five times before Dean kicks out from the darkness that threatens to take him under for good. He doesn't realize, or is able to control his bodies instinct reaction. 

His knee connects with Alastair's stomach, and hard. Dean gasps in shock at the same time Alastair grunts and curses in pain. Dean is dropped from Al's grip, as he wraps his arms around his stomach. Dean's heart skips a beat and he struggled to push his pain aside to wrap his arms around Al to comfort him. 

"Oh god." he whispers, reaching out and grabbing a hold of Al's shirt with clumsy hands. 

"I'm sorry!" He sobs, clutching desperately at his shoulders and burying his face into the crook of his neck. 

"I'm sorry!" he repeats, hugging Al as close as he can. 

"Off." He growls, disgusted. He pushes Dean away from his body, and wraps long fingers around his throat. Dean doesn't struggle, he accepts his punishment until the darkness takes over. He watches Alastair's furious face disappear before his eyes, and falls into slumber.   
\----  
This goes on for months, so long that Dean can't even remember what it feels like to be happy anymore.   
\----

September, 2014.

Marks the month he was left alone to sulk, while Alastair was on business. With no job, or no money left behind for Dean to survive while Al was gone, he starved. After a week there wasn't any food left for him to eat, and he ate and scavenged up what he could. 

Alastair gets back two weeks later, gives him a black eye, he doesn't remember what he did wrong. 

He wakes up to an empty house, once again, and goes out for a drink that night. Where he meets Castiel. 

His everything. 

His savior.   
\----

As he looks back now, he realizes that he can't remember most of the last two years. It all turns into a thick fog, and he can't look back anymore. He doesn't remember most of the happiest times of his life, or some of the worst. His mind has blocked everything out, he doesn't know if it's the shock or the drugs that the doctor is keeping him on, but he can't remember. Can't recall Alastair's laugh, or sincere smile, or the way he felt wrapped in Dean's arms, not even his smell can be recalled. All he sees now is those dead grey eyes, those curling fanged teeth spread wide over a poisonous grin. And an echoing laugh that strangles all of the love and hope that Dean has left, keeps him in a chokehold of evil. 

Alastair's last moments flash before him every time he closes his eyes. Blood, betrayal, hate, his screaming gargling noises when his eyes bored into Dean through his last moments. He thinks about Alastair's last words, how he claimed, promised, that he never loved Dean. And he tries, he tries so fucking hard to make it a lie, but he more he looks back, the more he makes himself remember, he sees the truth in his words. He never loved Dean, that warmth he held wasn't for him, it was for the plans of the future. The promise to destroy Dean. To take, and break everything Dean has left. 

Fuck, did he succeed. Even through his numb drugged faze he can feel the pain, the deep imbedded ache inside of him. The ache of loss, and lies. All those times Dean held his heart out In his muddy palms and gave it over to Alastair with full trust that he wouldn't crush it until it couldn't beat anymore. All of those times he gave his mind, body, and soul over to Alastair. When Al would use him, not make love to him. Touch him, but not caress him. Look at him, but not see anything more than property. 

Dean was nothing more than a soldier to John, a burden to Sam, and a toy for Alastair. His whole life spent giving everything he had to the ones that he thought needed him in return. He sliced his wrists open and gave, and gave, and fucking gave some more until he was bled dry across the cold ground, with no one around him but his demons and the darkness. 

If Cas hadn't of come to his rescue….Dean doesn't know what would have been of him. Dead maybe? Hopefully, or maybe still played with and used by Alastair for years to come? He doesn't want to know, doesn't fucking want to think anymore. But he still here, he still alive. But he doesn't feel alive. He doesn't want to be alive. Because he knows that once he comes out of his blissful haze he will break, he will fall apart, shatter. A million pieces that no one, not even Cas, can glue back together. 

And even if he does manage to fix Dean, what does he have left? He will never be perfect again, the pieces will never fit perfectly again. Nothing will ever be the same again. So why is Castiel trying? Why is he so determined to fix, to save, Dean? 

Because he loves him?

Right….like he's supposed to believe that, like he is going to fall for that again. Far as Dean's concerned the only person that will ever love him, that has ever loved him, was his mom. And she's gone.

Shadows play across his vision when he opens his blurred tear filled eyes again. Time seems to have frozen, dragged by slowly while he was gone. The moon still shines through the window, and rolls across the tan colored room. The smell of vomit gone, along with the sticky feeling across his chest. He's faintly aware of his freshly cut and washed hair sticking to him, water dropping down onto his cleaned pillow, mixed with tears that Dean tries to hold back. 

He's also aware that the shadow that stand in front of him is not Castiel.  
…..  
.  
..  
.  
.  
..  
I was once sad and lonely, having nobody to comfort me, so I wore a mask that always smiled to hide my feelings behind a lie.


	44. Chapter 44

Gabriel envelops him in a bone crushing hug, failing to notice the vomit that splatters across Castiel's shirt. The keys barely make it out of their front door before it closes shut behind him with a bang, Gabriel taking advantage of his sleepy brother and attacking him with a hug. Castiel can't help but think that Gabe is acting like a worried mother hen, worrying over him constantly lately. Although it's nice, he is a little annoyed for Gabriel to be treating him like a child again. 

He sighs, half heartedly returning the gesture towards his brother. His one arm comes up to wrap around Gabriel, barely making contact with his back. His brother crushes him to his chest, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Cassie." he whispers, trailing off. 

"Are you okay?" he breathes out a moment later. Castiel only shrugs in answer. Because he can't truly say that he is okay, neither can he say how afraid he is, how raw he feels inside. It seems that he is just….numb, he's completely overwhelmed with everything he is feeling at the moment. He's scared because he's not sure that Dean will pull himself up again. He's happy that dean's alive, he is sad to watch Dean in so much pain. He feels guilty for letting this happen, letting everything get worse. And he also feels guilty for requesting Dean to be drugged till he is fuzzy and numb himself. Castiel knows that Dean wont be able to cope without some help from the drugs, neither will he come back on good terms. Dean will be more broken than before, he will lash out against everything and everyone he can. He especially wont be able to deal with Alastair's other boyfriend. 

But most of all, he wont be able to love Castiel anymore, not after the incident. All he will see when he looks at Cas is a murderer. He will see Alastair's blood sprayed across his face and retreat back in disgust. That is the one thing that castiel doesn't think he can handle right now, not while he is so broken, so tired. He just needs some time, and so does Dean, then he will let the doctors bring him down from his numb faze. He will deal with Dean, later. 

Gabriel pulls back from his tight embrace, his hands coming to a stop on Cas' shoulders. He locks eyes with Cas, his gaze as serious as Castiel as ever seen. Then his brother stills. His nose scrunches up at the smell of vomit, his face twisting into disgust. Gabe's gaze flicks down to Cas' shirt, where the vomit is mostly dried across his chest and his face twists even more. His eyes slowly make there way to his own shirt, where their chests were pressed together just moments ago, and his mouth drops open in a gasp. 

Castiel almost wants to laugh at the look on Gabriel's face, but he manages to choke it down into just a chuckle. "This better not be what I think it is Cassie." He growls, his tone light, almost on the brink of laughing as well. He flicks smile crinkled eyes up to Castiel, and raises an eyebrow. "You couldn't have warned me?" He chuckles, taking a step away from his brother. 

He drops his hands to his sides, and stares down at the mess that now covers his t shirt. His expression is completely neutral when he looks up again. "I take it Dean's not doing so well?" He whispers, his eyes losing all humor that they once held before. Castiel cringes back from the words. Images of Dean springing up in his head. "No." He answers, slowly, running a hand down his face. Gabriel just nods slowly, his eyes flickering around the room. 

"Have you talked to Sam?" he grunts, changing the topic out of awkwardness. Castiel shrugs, pushing past Gabriel towards his room. "Haven't had the time to." Gabriel sighs, catching up to Castiel in the hallway. "You need to talk to him, Cas." His brother says, sounding more urgent and worried. Castiel turns into his room, heading straight for the closet. Gabriel takes his seat on Castiel's bed, spreading out like a lazy cat across the sheets. 

"I will." he promises. Digging through the shirts he has left clean in his closet. "Okay." Gabriel chimes back skeptically, trailing off and extending the word in a drawl. Moments pass with just the noise of rustling fabric, and squeaky bed springs as Gabriel shifts restlessly. 

"Do…." his brother sighs. "Do you need anything?" He rushes out in one breath, making this whole situation more awkward than it needs to be. Castiel shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at his twitchy brother. "No." He answers, switching his attention back over to his clothes. Gabriel is up off the bed in a flash, he stops just as he reaches the door. He looks back to Castiel with deep knowledge and sadness in his eyes. 

"Please bring him home, Cassie." 

With that said Gabriel turns and leaves the room completely. The door clicking shut behind him. 

Castiel ends up taking one of Dean's t shirts, and a pair of sweatpants from Dean's drawer. Castiel's sure that Dean would be more than happy to be rid of those flimsy hospital pants. And as for the shirt, he removes his vomit covered one and replaces it with Dean's worn out grey t shirt. Surprisingly the fabric is thin, and comfortable, more comfy than any of the shirts Castiel owns, which leads him to believe that he will be borrowing Dean's clothes more often. And of course it smells like him, that comforts him even further. 

Castiel doesn't waste more time than he needs to, he knows that he should never leave Dean alone longer than he can help. So he rushes with getting things done, and ready for Dean to come home.   
…..

For a terrifying minute the shadow that looms above him looks like Alastair, long and bony, reaching towards him, seeking after him. And Dean thinks Your Dead! It's not real! But then it twists again, and shortens into someone small? Shorter, skinnier. His eyes blur the face into a large dark mass, nothing recognizable about the man before him. For all he knows he could be dreaming? Or maybe even hallucinating, from all of the drugs that he's been pumped full of he wouldn't doubt it. 

Except for it feels real, and it looks real, all except for his vision going all screwy. He can make out a green? Coat, with a white shirt underneath. And….Blonde hair, yes. Light blonde hair, with brown streaked through it. But he can’t figure out why he looks so familiar? Where Dean knows this man from? He doesn't know his name, but he's important somehow. He just can't get to the memory, it's buried too deep, too far back inside of the darkness. 

"Dean?" The voice says, dominant, high pitched. And angry? Why is this man angry? Dean scoots himself back to the farthest side of the bed, or at least he attempts too. His limbs are heavy, and his brain doesn't seem to send the right signals to his body. His arm slides uselessly across soft sheets, while his fingers twitch uncontrollably. He stares up sightlessly, trying his best to command his eyes to work, to see the danger? That's in front of him. 

"Dean." the man says again, louder, more firmly. He kicks his legs to try and scoot or sit up that way, but comes out with the same result as his arms. He falls limp for a moment, before pushing and sliding his arms again. He needs to get up, he needs to see! He can't lie here vulnerable, not while there are people out to get him, people that want to hurt him. "Stop." the man says as a warning, his tone short and clipped. 

Dean pushes more, because no, he is not going to stop, not until he get's some answers, or at least gets his vision back! 

A hand wraps around his wrist, and squeezes. But it's not the man who was just speaking that's got a grip on him, no. This grip, the size of the hand, it's so familiar. He knows this hand, he's felt it so many times before, crushing, caressing, hurt inflicting touch. A calloused hand that intends to inflict pain, that has always done just that. Neither the name, nor the face will come to Dean's mind, but he knows. He just can't fucking get to it. 

He chokes and tugs back against the crushing grip. Except he's weak, he's drugged, and he can't see, so it doesn't do much but jostle the mans arm a little. He mumbles and swears as he shakes his bruised arm, he doesn't want this poison touching him ever again. 

He is just about to scream out for help when that angry voice snaps through the air.

"Rosco! stop." 

His wrist is dropped along with a low growl sounding against the air. "He doesn't deserve to be here, not after…" Dean knows that voice, he can feel the phantom breath whispering into his neck, hot breath spewing sickly things into his skin. He shivers, shutting his eyes for the briefest second. 

"Just shut up for a minute!" the shadow man yells, running a hand down his face. Dean now can make out blue eyes, not like Cas', but colder. They bore down into him, and he stills, stares. "Dean." the man says again, his name like iron out of that mouth. "Can you hear me?" the voice asks, cold. 

Dean doesn't make any move to show that he can, he just stares at the blurry colors above him.

The man must know that Dean can hear him, because he keeps talking. "My name is Ephraim, i." he pauses, pulling a seat forward. He sits close enough that Dean can make out his features through the blur, and feel the heat radiating off of his body. "I don't have any way of wording this without hurting you. So I will just get straight to the point. I have been with Alastair for almost three years now." 

Dean barely has time to register the words, and the spike of pain that shoots through his chest before the man is talking again. "I suspected he was-" He trails off, looking Dean over in disgust. "Cheating." He finishes with a growl. Dean would like nothing more than to punch this dick in the mouth, if only he could move. His fingers twitch and curl into tight fists beside him. 

"Rosco filled me in on the details of your relationship with Alastair." Dean's eyes find there way to the large shadow behind Ephraim. "Frankly, it sounds like you were nothing more than a play thing for Alastair." Dean shoots his best glare to the both of them. "But that doesn't change the fact that he was in fact cheating."

"With you no less." he adds in disgust, Rosco chuckling behind him. Dean lays back against the pillows, shutting his eyes tightly. He knows Alastair didn't, doesn't love him, but it doesn't give this asshole the right to tell Dean these things. He has been reminded of just how much Al hated him enough times already, he doesn't need this guy to tell him again. 

Dean opens his eyes to glare over at Ephraim. "what do you want?" he whispers through his glass covered tightening throat. 

Ephraim sighs, sitting back in his chair with his hands folded neatly in his lap. "I want to know why?" he cuts out, raising an eye brow. 

Dean's face scrunches In confusion. "What?" he snaps, his eyes following Rosco as he takes a few steps closer. Ephraim sighs again. "Why did you stay with him?" 

What kind of question is that!? Like Dean ever had a choice in anything! The more this man says the more Dean hates him. Plus his friend gives Dean the creeps, he just can't figure out why. 

He snaps his mouth shut, and grinds his teeth. No way he's talking to this guy about anything. 

Rosco takes one more step further, his eyes locked on Dean. Now that the man is closer Dean can make out the large brown beard covering his face. His stomach drops, and his heart stops for just a moment. The monitor beside him doubles its pace, the beeps sounding closer together. Beard. Fucking Beard. The man who tortured him for weeks, who still continues to haunt his dreams. 

Dean automatically scoots himself to the farthest side of the bed. His eyes wide as he watches every move the man makes. 

"Why did you stay?" Ephraim repeats, sounding more impatient.

Dean once again does nothing to answer the question. 

After moments of silence, Ephraim becomes fed up and gestures over his shoulder. Rosco gives a smirk, and takes the last steps towards Dean's bed. 

Panic floods through Dean's chest. He knows he can't move, can’t defend himself against Beard, so he does the only thing that he can. 

"Because I didn't have a choice!" He shouts, flailing his numb limbs in attempt to get away or at least block Rosco from him. 

"That wasn't so hard now was it." Ephraim smiles, shooing rosco away from Dean. 

"Now!" he chuckles, clapping his hands together. "Next question." 

"What!? No!" he shouts. Ephraim cuts him off with a hiss. 

"You will answer my questions, or I will let my friend here have his way with you." he growls, gesturing over to Rosco. Dean's mouth snaps shut, and Ephraim grins in victory. 

"Did you love Alastair?" He asks, lowering his voice, and leaning forward in his chair. 

Dean closes his eyes, pushing the hurt down as far as he can. He can hear Rosco's chuckle beside him. 

"Yes." His voice cracks. 

"Good. Did Alastair love you?" Ephraim asks, leaning into Dean's personal space. 

The question hurts, brings things out that he never wanted to think about again. He still has that tiny sliver of hope that Al was lying to him when he said that he never loved Dean. But he knows that he just tells himself that lie to cope. And he knows that he can't tell them something he doesn't truly believe himself. But he can't say it out loud, he can't admit it. Not to them, not to anyone. It hurts too much. 

Ephraim clears his throat, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Dean panics. But is still unable to say anything, even as Beard makes his way over to the bed. He squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to focus. 

All that he can manage is a whisper, barely loud enough for Ephraim to hear. 

"No." 

He hums in response, stopping Rosco's movements. 

Dean's eyes sting, and his heart hurts, but this man doesn't seem to be done just yet. He smiles down at Dean, leaning back just the slightest in his chair. "Then why did you stay?"

"I told you-" Ephraim cuts him off. " You didn't have a choice. Yes. I remember. But that isn't an answer." 

Rosco moves without the need for a gesture this time, a smile spreading over his face. Confusion and panic race through Dean, what is he supposed to say? What does this man want to hear! "I-i-" he stumbles, no words reaching his tongue. 

Rosco's hand closes over Dean's wrist. He has to choke down the scream bubbling in his throat. Panic fogs his brain, any answers blocked with fear and adrenaline. Rosco's hand crushes down, and he tugs Dean hard enough that he is sitting up. His vision swims, and he struggles to breath through his tight chest. 

His monitors go crazy, and Dean hopes for just a second that someone will notice and come to check on him. Of course, no one does. 

Rosco cups the back of Dean's head when Dean fails to hold it up himself. His breathing feels worse with each passing moment, and he feels as though he is going to puke. Ephraim must have told Beard to stop, because nothing happens until Dean can manage to open his eyes again. 

"I'll ask one more time Dean, why did you stay?" 

He gasps in as much air as he can before attempting an answer. "He wouldn't let me leave." He whispers, clutching at the sheets beneath him. 

Air wisps around him as he is dropped back to the bed. He gasps in as much air as he can handle, as soon as his head touches the pillow. 

"Good." Ephraim says, giving Dean a pat on the shoulder. 

"Now." he exclaims, his eyes pooling in darkness as he stares down at Dean. His heart beats in his ears, his gaze flicking from Ephraim to Rosco, then back again. He just wishes for once that Castiel would stay by his side at all times, because all of these surprise visits are getting real old. 

Rosco smirks over at him, their eyes locking for a brief second before Dean drops his to the floor. A disgusted feeling pools in his stomach, he feels dirty, sickly, for having ever had those slimy hands on him. He wishes the bastard to burn in hell. For all that he has done, all that he has taken. The man doesn't deserve to live. Alastair didn't give the man permission for most of the horrible things he has done to Dean. Nor did he know about them. Dean was threatened to keep it a secret. Because Rosco knew that if Al ever found out what had happened that week, that he would be murdered for touching someone else's property. 

Dean's thoughts are cut off when a hand lands heavily across his cheek. It stings, enough for his eye to black out momentarily and water profusely. He holds his palm over his throbbing eye, and looks up at Rosco towering over him. A smirk firmly planted across his face. 

Ephraim clears his throat, and Rosco steps back. 

"What I really want to know, Dean." He pauses. 

"Is If you loved Alastair so much, why is he dead?" He asks with a smug expression. 

Dean sits most of the way up at that, glaring daggers down at the man who dare blame him for Alastair's mistakes. He feels his chest tighten, but ignores it. 

"Are you fucking blind?" He cuts out, his voice louder than it has been all day. The drugs are wearing off. 

It's Ephraim's turn to flinch back. He eyes Dean for a moment, his mouth opens to speak but Dean doesn't let him.

"Were you so oblivious, that you couldn't fucking see what kind of man Alastair was?" He pauses, takes a deep breath. "You couldn't tell how much he deserved this? How much he tore everyone around him apart?"

"Or." he snaps. "Was it just your stupidity that made you come to believe that none of it was real? That the things said, or even seen about Al were just rumors? Lies?"

"You actually thought." He pauses chuckles at the horror spread across the mans face. "That he was a good person?" he almost whispers now. 

Ephraim looks away, anger flickering over his features. His fingers twitch by his sides, like he wants to summon Rosco over to him again. His jaw clenches over and over again as he scans the room. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he looks back to Dean and speaks, low and terrifying. 

"At least he loved me." He smiles, his lip twitching up in to a half evil grin and half snarl. "That's something you will never have." 

Dean's insides shatter, while he shudders. Feels crippled, and weak, dead inside. Alastair's words race through his head, played on repeat for the world to hear. 

"I don't love you."

"I never loved you."

"your worthless to me."

It's evil. It fucking hurts. 

Alastair gave all of his hard earned love to another man, to someone he really loved. To someone that he treated like a prince. While Dean lie bleeding, and mumbling, praying, fucking chanting to the gods that Alastair would come back, that he would touch Dean the way he wanted to be touched, that he would just say I love you one more time. 

"Leave." he growls, his eyes locked on the far wall. His hand tremble and shakes as he points towards the door. 

"Leave!" He screams, his eyes already starting to burn with tears. 

He clenches them shut as Ephraim leans in close, his breath ghosting over Dean's ear. "It's okay." he whispers. 

"I'm sure he loved." his voice trails off, both him and Rosco chuckling. "Things about you." he drawls, his hand running down Dean's arm. 

"Sweet dreams." He whispers, his breath disappearing from Dean's ear.

A sob spills from his lips as soon as he hears the door close. 

….

 

Castiel makes sure to leave Sam a message as he drives to the hospital. He tells Sam to meet him there, both to talk and help take Dean home. 

He doesn't get a reply until he's back inside the huge building. Sam tells him he will be here.

….

.  
..  
.  
.  
..  
.


	45. Chapter 45

Castiel reaches Dean's room quickly. He makes sure to close the door gently behind him, as he sees Dean asleep in his bed. His back is turned toward him, and his limbs are curled in towards his chest, a small protective gesture. He smiles gently and sets the bag of clothes on the side table. He runs his hand through Dean's newly cut short hair, watching as Dean's brow furrows slightly, and his fingers twitch were they are curled up against his chest. 

Castiel notices the visiting chair has moved since he was last here, which is strange, but then again one of the nurse's could have moved it. It's not usual for them to move things around, but it does happen on occasion. He shrugs off his suspicion, pulls it back to it's usual spot and takes a seat. Completely content with watching over dean until Sam get's here. 

Which happens to be a lot longer than he suspected. Sam shows an hour later, after Dean has woken up. He walks into the room looking annoyed and tense, that is until he sees his brother. His eyes immediately soften and light up at the sight of his brother sitting up, poking around at some green jello. Dean makes a face at the green slime in front of him and finally sets his spoon down, pushing the tray away with disgust. Castiel rolls his eyes, Dean refuses to eat anything the hospital has to offer him, no matter how much Castiel tells him he should eat. 

"Hey Dean." Sam sighs, his voice a lot softer when talking to his brother. Dean looks up, surprise chasing away the dullness that usually recedes in his eyes. "Sammy." he smiles, grimacing as he sits up straighter. Dean wraps an arm around his middle, and breaths for a second. 

"Take it easy." Sam chuckles, taking a step closer to Castiel. Sam nods his hello, and Castiel returns it, letting his eyes linger for only a second before they return to Dean. Dean throws an easy glare over to Sam, a small tilt to his lips. The room is plunged into silence, moments passing of blank stares and Dean's raged breathing. 

"So..am I leaving, or what?" Dean says after a couple moments, looking a little angry and awkward. He switches his gaze from Sam then back to Cas. His eyes are so light, full of hope that someone will tell him what he wants to hear. Castiel is baffled with how Dean is so carefree, like the last couple weeks haven't happened at all. He's also worried that Dean is just suppressing everything, hiding it until they can't see him break. And that is something Castiel will have to fix, no way Dean can live this way. 

Castiel blows out a breath, taking a quick glance over at Sam before he answers. "Hopefully." He answers, catching Dean's eyes. His eyes lose all of the brightness that was there before, and he just stares for a moment. "What do you mean hopefully?" he growls, his body going stiff. He clenches his fists, and sits up even straighter, even though he looks to be in pain he keeps his posture. 

Sam answers first. "We mean that we don't know if they will release you yet." Dean's eyes flick over to Sam, anger radiating from him. "And, we don't know if your ready either." Castiel follows up. Dean's glare turns to him, and he shakes his head running a hand down his prickly face. 

"To hell with that! I'm ready, and I want out of this god forsaken place." He shouts back, gasping back in lost breath with trouble. He wheezes and coughs a few times, before he is swinging his legs off of the side of the bed with determination. 

Both Castiel and Sam are up at the same time, urging Dean to lie back down. Cas places his hands, and pushes as lightly as he can on Dean's shoulder's. Dean mirrors him, and pushes back with as much force as he can. Castiel stumbles back a bit, but keeps his hold strong. He gives Dean a worried look, while Sam stands behind him, ready to help. 

"Dean, you need to be lying down. It's not good for you to be up and walking around." He whispers softly, trying his best not to hurt him. His heart aches with how much Dean needs out, but Castile has no control over whether or not he is released. So he clenches his jaw closed, and gently pushes again. 

Dean growls and pushes back, his body tilting every which way. He almost has Castiel pushed far enough , but eventually he falls limp in Castiel's arms, his face buried in his shoulder. Cas tightens his grip around him, as if not to drop him. He shakes a few times, gasping against Cas' shoulder, then stills and wraps his arms around Castiel in return. 

"I want to go home, Cas." he whispers, his voice heavy, and breathy. Castiel nods, rubbing a hand up and down Dean's back. Dean pulls back from the hug, looking up to his brother with a small smile. Sam shoots both of them a worried look as Cas pulls back and takes his seat again. 

"I will do what I can." Castiel promises. A small smile reaches Dean's lips as he lays back down and closes his eyes. 

……

 

Castiel follows as Sam leads the way outside. He thinks about all of the things he needs to say, but can't think of one to start with. All of the topics he has today are very touchy, and Castiel may not like them one bit. So he decides to stay silent until Cas is the one to speak first. They make their way through the all to familiar hallways and finally through the front doors. Sam leads them to a secluded space, were they can’t be over heard, and leans his weight against the cold brick wall. Castiel stands straight in front of him, his body rigid and awkward. 

They stand in silence for longer than what is comfortable, but eventually Sam speaks up. "There really isn't any good news to be heard, except for the murder being passed off as self defense. Thanks to my buddy Ash." he sighs, rolling his shoulders, and looking down the side of the hospital. There are a few men and a couple nurses standing not to far from them taking a smoke break. He flicks his gaze back over to Cas, who looks way to worried than he needs to be. 

Sam continues. "One thing they have found from the case is that Dean was poisoned. Traces of a mix of poison's showed through some tests." Castiel clenches his jaw, but otherwise says nothing. "Which lead me to investigate a little more around the hospital. You said that Skylar was running tests, trying to figure out what was wrong?" He pauses, Castiel nods, his brows furrowed. 

Sam runs a hand over his face, great, just what he needed. "Well the poison Dean was givin' shows in more than several tests so." He drawls, letting Castiel catch up. His blue eyes immediately darken with rage, and he clenches his fists at his sides. 

"Skylar was working with Alastair?" Castiel finishes, looking even more angry if that were possible. Sam rushes to calm him and get everything they need to talk about out. "Yes. I believe he was paying here a large sum of cash to hide the poison, as well as sneak Alastair in unnoticed." 

"She was in charge of most of the nurse's on Dean's floor, and she could have easily distracted them while Alastair went in and did his thing." Sam clarifies, his own mood going downhill. 

Castiel begins to walk away at that, but Sam catches him by the arm. "Wait! Where are you going?" He asks, watching Castiel's gaze turn to him. "I need to talk to Skylar." He growls pulling at his arm again. 

Sam sighs, knowing now that he should have told Castiel this part first. "She's dead, Cas." he whispers, almost feeling bad for the woman. 

Castiel stops at that, confusion clashing with anger. He turns his body back to Sam and tilts his head to the side. "what? When? How? Why haven't I heard of this yet?" He asks, taking a step closer. Sam shrugs. "I figured you did know. It was only yesterday that she was found. Apparently it was suicide." he answers his own puzzlement coming through. 

He doesn't understand why she would do it so soon. But then again maybe she was guilty and couldn't live with knowing what she did any longer. Or, maybe she was murdered by someone protecting Alastair and his friends, and they just made it look like an accident. 

"Oh." is all Castiel says. "Then who's taking over her position?" Castiel suddenly asks. 

"Some guy, I guess. I never met him before, so I don't know who he is." Sam replies, shrugging. Cas nods, searching the lot around them again. 

"Someone you looking for?" Sam blurts, furrowing his brows. Castiel snaps his head back to Sam, and shakes his head. 

"No." he pauses. "Well I guess not. It's just that Alastair's other boyfriend has been lurking aroun-" Sam cuts him off, a jolt of Confusion running through him. "Wait what? Alastair's other boyfriend? He was cheating!?" He rushes his words, staring at Castiel. 

"Yeah." Is all Castiel says in return. Rage runs through Sam's body, he really wishes he could have been the one to murder that bastard. Dean will never be the same after this. 

"Does Dean know?" He blurts, panic shaking his body. Castiel shakes his head 'no', and relief spreads through Sam's bones. Good Dean doesn't know. 

"We shouldn't tell him." Sam says. "It will just make matters worse. Dean won't be able to handle that well." He says seriously, hoping that Dean never does find out.

"I agree." Castiel says, nodding his conformation and scanning the surroundings again. 

"Another thing." Sam adds, his gut tightening with just the thought of it. 

"I have come to believe that my father was working with Alastair." He grinds out, watching as anger tears through Castiel's eyes again. 

As if Dean needs another thing on his plate. But Sam believes it to be true, how else would John's picture be handed over to Dean as a gift from Alastair? It's the only explanation he can come up with. He just hopes the truth isn't worse than what Sam believes to have happened. 

….

Dean waits until Sam and Castiel's footsteps fade completely down the hallway. His eyes come open, and he scans the room just in case. No one is around. He reaches for the cords attached to his chest, and rips them off as quickly as possible, the heart monitor going blank. Then he rips the IV out of his arm, grimacing slightly at the sting and length of the needle. The needle leaks liquid across the floor as it swings back and forth. 

He pulls his legs, move's them a bit. There numb, and heavy, they feel extremely weak. He slowly raises himself to a sitting position, breathing heavily as he finally falls back against the wall. Next he drops his legs off of the side of his bed, hoping like hell he can still walk. 

His legs are flimsy and shake when he puts his weight on them. He can't remember the last time he stood, or even walked. Dean takes a couple wobbly steps forward, keeping a hand on the wall for balance. He takes a few more steps, steadier than before, snagging the plastic bag on the bedside table and taking it with him. The longer he walks the more steady he get's. 

Eventually he gets to the small bathroom attached to the room, and manages to change into his sweatpants. He's happy to get rid of those awful hospital pants, finally. He shoves the clothing into the corner, and exits the bathroom. 

Dean scans the room one last time, before grabbing his belongings, lacing up his boots, and leaving.

A few nurses glance at him as he walks down the hallways, some even stop and stare for a moment, and others ignore him completely. Dean wraps his arms around his middle and speeds his pace. 

He's uncomfortable, he feels wrong, he feels as though he's being watched. But he keeps moving anyhow, pushing down his worries. 

When he reaches the doors, he's afraid that someone is going to stop him. The nurse's stare even harder now, one even completely stopped watching him walk through the heavy doors. 

He hunches his shoulder's when the cold outside air hit's his skin. A shiver wracks his small body, and he curls into himself even further. It feels as though eyes are still on him, which couldn't be possible because when he looks around, he sees no one. 

He speeds his pace, and prays that no one catches him, that he will make it back safely.

The only reason he's doing this is because he can't stay in that place anymore. His nightmares are getting worse. He's paranoid, scared all of the time. And the flashbacks of what happened there are slowly killing him. And he knows that Castiel would do everything he could to get Dean out, but it wasn't soon enough. And he could have never went to Cas with this plan, he would refuse like he always does. It's best that Dean just does this, alone. 

So he walks.

 

He passes suspicious people, unfamiliar shops, and closer to the worst part of town, gang members. They eye him closely, one of the men taking a step forward, but thinking better of it and stepping back and away. Dean avoids eye contact, and walks as fast as his small legs will let him.

He walks for about an hour before he can't breath, and exhaustion overwhelms him. He has to sit down. He Follows the street a little longer, then tucks himself in an alley way, sitting on the dirty ground, and leaning against a rough brick wall. He hugs his knees to his chest, wraps himself in a tight ball, and breath's, shivers. 

He can do this, he just….needs a minute. To breath. 

In. Out. In. Out. Slowly. He expands his chest as far as he can, until it hurts, and burns from the effort. Then let's out all the air he managed to breath in, which happens to be tiny shallow breaths. He takes fistfuls of his sweatpants, grabs, and pulls until his palm begins to bleed again. 

He has to remember the breathing exercises he was taught. The one's Castiel always did with him when he would have a panic like this. He tries to remember Cas' even and calm breaths. In. out. He Remembers Cas' hand on his chest, keeping him steady. And the way he would whisper to Dean, instruct him. Breathing shouldn’t be that hard, but it is. Dean tries, he tries for what feels like an eternity. 

But he can't.

It fucking hurts, and his chest burns, his nose runs, his eyes water, his chest collapses, and he shivers. Cold. Tired. He can't raise his concrete filled chest far enough for any air to get through. Only tiny pieces of air get through, one's that are so shallow that he feels dizzy.

Then blackness. The last thing he remembers is screaming, and a heavy thud, cold seeping through his clothes. 

….

He watches the sickly man walk, or stumble, down the hallway. He lowers his phone, watches the beautiful sight before him walk straight out the front doors. Finally. What belonged to him all along will finally be all his. Alastair can't do shit about protecting his little bitch any longer. 

He waits long enough for Dean to reach the side walk, then stands from the waiting room chair, and follows the fragile thing outside. He manages to keep his smile down to just a smirk, he hasn't claimed his prize yet. He follows long enough for Dean's steps to waver, become more sloppy than before. He's so close to taking him that he can almost taste it. 

But, he still keeps his distance. He's patient, he waited a whole year for this moment. He's just glad someone took out Alastair for him. He's had a taste before, and now it’s a drug. 

It only takes Dean a minute before he stumbles inside an alley way. His gorgeous little body collapses across the concrete just as he turns the corner. 

Finally. 

Rosco will claim what is his.

He smiles, a full on grin, as he takes a step forward. 

He can't wait to touch.

To taste.

To hurt.

He crouches next to the boy, his coat swiping across the ground. He watches, green eyes flutter closed. He marvels in the way he shivers, his brows coming together, and his lips parting in a gasp. Beautiful. How selfish of Alastair to keep something so precious to himself. Coward. 

"Step away from the boy." Come's a hard female voice. He's just about to laugh when a barrel of shotgun comes into view. He looks up, his smile faded. 

"Meg." He growls.

….  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Deep inside

Where nothing's fine

I've lost my mind.


	46. Chapter 46

Music blares, the power of the bass sending waves of electricity through the room. It's dark, dark enough that only outlines of bodies can be seen. The shapes crowd together, like large globs of dark mass. They stand like concrete walls when he tries to push his way through, but they dance to the beat of the too loud music. Pushing him back, and blocking his view. Every once and a while they bump and grind against him, their bodies like concrete. He loses his footing a couple of times, pushed too hard by someone that doesn't seem to notice. He yells for them to watch were they’re going, but either his voice is lost in the music, or he has no voice at all. 

He can’t tell if they're human, the shadows, some look odd, too skinny, too tall, phantom shadows protruding from their bodies where humans wouldn't have things coming out of their bodies. Flashes of light spark above, almost like lightning. It’s not enough light for him to make out the things dancing around him, but the things he does catch in the brief light jars him, brings his eyes a little wider, and his heartbeat a little faster. He blinks a couple of times, just to make sure he really did see it. 

The song changes, something faster than before. Shadows turn more aggressive, they shove, and jump around. So many of them are taller than him, only a few are the same size, and almost none are smaller. Dean pushes through the crowd just a little harder than before. 

He get's a feeling that he should hurry, that this is important. Like something is waiting on the other side of the dark mass's. 

He manages to push a little further into the group, past a couple of larger people. Sweat runs down his face, it's hot, he notices, has to be at least one hundred degrees in the over crowded room. He hears a loud laugh off to his left somewhere, it seems to drag on forever, somehow louder than the music pounding through the place. Another flash of light streaks through the air. He sees scales? And a tale? He doesn't know. 

Dean takes a deep breath and pushes through faster, as hard as he can manage. The laugh stops abruptly. And the song switches. He shoves at someone standing in his way. The thing is slimy, and rough against his palm. He takes back his hand with a curse, squinting in the dark to try and see what he got on his hand. A flash of light shows him something black crawling up from his hand to his arm. A tickling sensation following shortly after. Screaming again he flicks his hand, and wipes down his arm in harsh movements. Scratching at the skin until it's red and aching. 

The laugh starts back up, a little closer now. Dean flips his head around, trying to pin point the noise. He sees nothing but grinding shadows around him. He trips back a few steps, his breath coming faster. Looking through the darkness once more, he sees nothing, so he turns quickly on his heel and starts to push through the shadows again. Being extra careful to keep his hands to himself. 

More sweat pours down his face, and soaks his back. He wipes at it hastily, bumping shoulders with one of the bigger looking things. He swears he hears the huge shadow growl, but he can't be sure. And he doesn't stick around to find out either. The laugh stops again, a small scream sounding shortly after. It cuts off, and the song changes. Dean pushes faster, his heartbeat in his ears. Many of the shadows move out of his way on there own, not even seeming to notice that he's there. 

Another splinter of light flashes through the air. Dean skids to a stop, tipping forward on his toes. He huffs out a breath, sweat running down his face. He looks up to see that he has come face to face with a very large shadow. It stands like a wall in front of him. Dean trips back with a gasp, and collides with another shadow, so hard he feels like he was rammed into a brick wall. His back aches, as he gasps in a much needed breath. Squeezing his eyes shut for only a moment, he feels the "Wall" move away from him. Dean turns without thinking. One step forward, and a hand clutches his wrist. Tugging him so hard, that he thinks that his shoulder might pop out of it's socket. 

Dean starts to panic, a bad move. The thing takes advantage, and pulls him back, flush against it's chest. His breath is knocked out of him. So hard that the room spins a little, and for a moment he thinks that he can hear the shadows laughing again. He quickly flips around, so that he's facing the thing, his arm at an awkward angle. The laugh starts, but only for brief second. 

A flash of light, and Dean finally get's to see the things face. Withered dry skin, almost burnt looking, hollow eye sockets, nothing there except for black holes, and long yellow teeth dripping with dark red. It's face is pulled up into a smile, while it's claws dig into Dean's skin. Too soon the room is plunged into darkness again, and the shock finally sets in. 

Dean pulls away as harshly as he can manage, and surprisingly the thing let's go. He stumbles back, shocked, but quickly races away from the thing. 

No others try to grab him, as he races through the crowd. Some still bump and grind against him, but he pays no attention. He feels claustrophobic, surrounded by these shadows, tightly pushed into a small place. He sweats, and pushes, shoves his way through. His breath get's ragged the more he goes. It seems like he goes on forever. Waves of shadows are closed in all around him. No matter how much he pushes, and breathes, it seems like forever before he comes to a clearing. 

He stumbles to a stop, breathing hard, his breath rolling out in thick fog, his skin suddenly cold. The music scratches then cuts out completely. Dean looks back over his shoulder in confusion. The shadows freeze at the exact time the music stops. They look less human now with the red glow coming from the empty space. They all seem to be staying out of this space, avoiding it completely. 

He flinches when he hears a loud crack, like ice breaking. Dean flips his head back around, to stare at the empty space. All he sees is a large dark hallway, that seems to go on forever, with two dim red lights hanging closest to him. The laugh sounds from behind him, too loud in the large space. 

A chill wracks his body, he's frozen to the spot. Even as the laugh get's closer, air gusting against his back, he stands still. The hair on his neck raises as a breathier laugh blows across his neck and ear. Clenching his jaw, he turns.

The laugh cuts off, plunging the room into complete silence. He's met with nothing but darkness, the room empty. 

Dean breathes out the breath he was holding, his stomach dropping with fear. A cold sweat starts to gather on his brow, stinging his eyes as it rolls down his over dilated eyes. He refuses to close them, even though he can barely see anything anyway. 

Every shadow that collided with each other before, is now no where to be seen, neither is the entity that was just breathing in his ear. 

Dean turns back to the hallway. Which is now dimly lit towards the very end. There are two shadows to be seen, standing at the very end of the once dark hallway. One is exceptionally shorter than the one that stand behind it. The shadow behind is taller, has to be about Sam's size, maybe bigger. 

He can’t make out anything about them, but they seem familiar to him in some way. He breathes in time with his racing heart. Clenching his fists over and over again with anxiety. 

He doesn't dare to move, nor take the next steps towards the shadows. 

That is until someone screams. No. Not just someone. 

Cas. 

Dean's heart jumps in his chest, and his stomach twists with fear. He takes off running, adrenaline overtaking the fear of going through the hallway. He pushes as hard as his tired legs will let him go, his breath coming faster now that he knows who one of the shadows is. He hadn't realized before but the hallway is long, longer than it looked before. It's all like one big illusion. Castiel only seems to get farther away the faster he pushes his legs. He sees red tile, shining in the dim lights above, they almost look wet with the shine over the top. And red walls, that look like they have been melted, almost like wax running off of a candle that has been lit too long. 

He passes groups of doors, all painted black with gold doorknobs. There's also pictures, pictures of flowers, of family, of his and Al's house, and fire. They all look alike. Almost like he's running on a treadmill, passing the same things over and over again, feeling like he never get's any closer to Cas. He pushes harder, until his legs feel like jello, and his lungs are on fire with the effort to breath. 

Dean glances up from his feet once more, he can make out Cas' trench coat now. The beige is now soaked in blood, large splatters soaking down the front. Cas screams again, a retched noise falling from his lips. Dean looks up just in time to see Cas falling to his knees. The thud of his knees hitting the ground seems to vibrate through his entire body, and echo louder than it should be. 

Dean pushes even harder, gasping, and clutching a hand to his side as it starts to protest and ache. Dean locks his eyes on Cas, slipping a little on the tile beneath him when he steps on it wrong. 

Castiel seems to notice him now, he reaches for him, a bloodied hand raised in front of him. His hand shakes, but he manages to keep his eyes on Dean the entire time. Even as the shadow behind him moves closer against his back. He looks so desperate as he stares at Dean with his too blue eyes. As he reaches out for him. Dean's chest ache's with fear, and sympathy. Because he knows that feeling, the feeling of being so desperate that you just want to curl in a ball and die. But you can't, you have to keep fighting. 

Dean flicks his eyes to the larger shadow standing behind Cas. It laughs, that horrible loud insane laugh from before. Dean recognizes it from before, and it sends chills down his spine. Not just because it's creepy as hell, but because he remembers that laugh. He's heard it a thousand time's. 

It belongs to Alastair.

Alastair wields a dripping knife, twirling it thoughtfully as he stares at Dean. The blade catches the light briefly, and another shard of fear explodes through Dean's body. A smile curves Alastair's lips, and he whispers something aloud. The whisper seeming to echo around him, he cant make out the words though, they almost sound like a chant of some kind. Dean screams for Cas to turn around, to fight back, to move, anything. But once again he has no voice, nothing but breath comes from his attempts. Which only seems to burn his lungs more with the effort. Castiel stares at him hopefully, his eyes scanning Dean in disbelieve. As If Dean weren't running towards him with everything he has left. As if he is some dirty stain that needs to be removed. That doesn’t stop Dean though, he keeps his legs steady and pushes himself to the point of insanity.

Al presses the dirty blade to Cas' neck, hard enough for Cas' skin to dip in and a dribble of blood to drip upon his already dirty coat. Dean screams again, reaching out to him. He's so close. He can almost grab onto Cas.

Dean trips forward, reaching for his hand. His knees crack against the tile, the wet tile, slicked up with Cas' blood now. Their hands connect for a brief second, relief filling Dean's chest, as he feels those warm familiar fingers beneath his. He clutches tightly, afraid of losing him again. He's just about to tug Cas into his arms, but before he can Cas turns into black smoke, his hand dissipating in thin air. 

Dean's arm falls limply to his side, his heart picking up speed. He swallows back a scream he knows he can't release, and slowly looks up. His eyes travel over all to familiar shoes, and pants, then finally land on his face. Grey cold eyes are settled on him, a hungry and amused stare. Alastair holds his stare, then his lips spread over his teeth, and he smiles. The smile Dean has seen way to many times before, it sends chills down his spine. 

His vision blurs, a light bursting out behind him. He knows he's crying but he refuses to take his eyes from Al. Because it hurts to see him again. It hurts to know that this isn't the Al he remembers, not the man he fell in love with all that time ago. He's never going to see that man again, because that man was all a lie, a fake. 

Alastair's laugh echo's around him, startling him from his thoughts. Dean furrows his brows, bowing his head at Alastair's feet in defeat. 

"Morning, sleeping beauty." an unfamiliar voice grunts, from behind him, too close to his ear for comfort. 

Dean cracks his eyes open, expecting light to burst through, but it never does. Only a small dim blue light comes through. He blinks away the tears in his eyes, his breath still coming fast with fear. He runs his hand across something soft underneath him, tangling his fingers in the fabric. Grounding himself. 

He's in complete bliss for a moment, his eyes focused on the stained ceiling above him. His breath coming easier as he lays there in the dark. He almost considers going back to sleep, his eyes falling closed with heaviness. 

And then everything comes rushing back. The hospital, passing out, the nightmare, the voice next to him. He tenses, his eyes snapping open again and coming into focus. He slowly lets his gaze wonder to the heat beside him. First thing he notices is the blue moon light hanging on the wall, and a part way closed door spilling a small amount of light through the crack. Low notes of music roll in from inside the walls, a small thrum of bass coming through as well. 

Dean let's his eyes wonder even further, and catches the back of the man's head, brown hair cropped messy around his ears. He strains to see more in the low light, his eyes blown impossibly wide as he stares at the man's head. He clears his throat, his head bobbing in the darkness as he does.

"It's been a while." the man says, a smile in his now familiar voice as he speaks.

Dean's heart flips, and he struggles back from the voice. Panic pouring into his chest once again, as he grabs handfuls of blanket and pushes back from the man. His back hits what he assumes is the back of a couch, and he clutches the cushions beside him, practically leaping towards the other side of the couch. 

With a gasp he falls face forward with a loud clink of metal sounding from behind him. His face smashes into the cushion beneath him, the smell of cigarettes filling his nose. He stretches his arm uncomfortably behind him, realizing with a twist that he's cuffed to something. He tugs against it, pain shooting through his shoulder, the chain is wrapped too tightly around his healing wrist. 

Fear fills his chest, as he struggles to sit back up. A small sound escapes his lips, a sound that can only be explained as true fear. His eyes snap up, his loose hand coming up to rub the raw skin on his wrist. His vision blacks out momentarily, his breath coming too fast, Dean pulls his knees to his chest. He huddles back as far as his body will let him.

The man chuckles, not even fazed by Dean's little freak out. He turns his head back from the doorway, slowly, his body turning along with him. His beard is longer than Dean remembers, he looks a lot bigger than he last did too. Must be twice Dean's size. Amused brown eyes latch on to Dean the second his body is turned towards him, making Dean's skin tingle uncomfortably. 

"Rosco." he breathes, his eyes wide in the darkness. 

He smiles, long and slow in return, nodding his head. He seems to undress Dean with his eyes, as he rakes them over his body. "You remembered." He chuckles. 

He brings himself closer to Dean, sliding forward on his chair. His breath ghosts over Dean's cheek, his eyes still locked on Dean's lips. He curls away from Rosco, turning his face away from him the best he can. 

"Now, don't be like that." He whispers. Dean jumps away at the touch of an oversized hand, he slides his fingers up his left leg. He hums to himself, content with sliding his hand further up Dean's leg, until he reaches his knee. Dean presses his legs in closer to his heaving chest, and swallows with a click. 

"You don't have to be scared, Dean." His breath washes over Dean's ear, surprising a yelp out of his chest. He hadn't realized how close Rosco really was. He pushes at Rosco's insistent hand, a chill running through his body. Rosco latches onto his wrist with a growl, pinning it against Dean's burning chest. 

Dean tugs back against the hold, nausea turning in his stomach. "Get off me." He whispers back, his voice wavering from the growl he was aiming for. Rosco tightens his hold on Dean's wrist, his other hand coming up and taking Dean's chin with a brutal grip. He turns his head so that he's facing Rosco, Dean tugs back a little, Rosco's lips too close to his as he looks up.

His brown eyes are hard when Dean glares up at him, his jaw aching with how hard Rosco grips it. "I can treat you so much better than Alastair ever did." He whispers, his voice firm. It sounds like a promise, but Dean knows that it's a lie. He refuses to fall for poisonous tongues. Dean's gaze hardens as he stares back into those unkind eyes, putting on the best glare he can manage.

He doesn't seem to notice, or care for Dean's glare, because Rosco's eyes wonder over Dean's body, his gaze soaking up every inch of him. Dean's body shakes under his stare, fear locking up his muscles. Flashbacks of that awful night spent with Rosco running through his mind. 

Rosco looks at him longingly, that same kind of dark hunger that Dean used to see in Alastair's eyes. He flicks his brown eyes back up to Dean's face, his thumb brushing against Dean's bottom lip. His eyes follow the movement, his pupils seeming to turn black with lust. Dean tenses, pulling back sharply. He cries out as Rosco tightens his hold on his wrist, something popping with how hard he grips him. 

"Hold still." that gravely voice commands, too soft for the way he's looking at Dean. He clenches his jaw, following Rosco's tongue as it flicks out to lick his lips. Dean swallows vomit, shaking his head in Rosco's grip. Fear grabs a hold of him, and his chest tightens unbelievably fast in panic. 

He knows what's going to happen, he's seen it a million times, felt it even more. Anyone could see it coming. But somehow he's not expecting it when it finally comes. 

Rosco's knuckles run across Dean's chin, and his fingers clench around his already bruised throat. It’s not hard enough to cut off any air, but it's enough for Dean to see the threat. 

The room spins as Rosco leans in impossibly closer. His breath running across his face, causing goose bumps to raise. Dean wants to scream, he wants to yell for help. But he's afraid, he's weak, and Rosco's fast, a lot faster than him. 

Those blown eyes meet his once again, closer now, a softer side coming through when he looks at Dean. He glares back, holding back tears, as he tries to breath through his panic. 

He tugs on the cuff holding his wrist off to the side. Feels the skin split and tear as Rosco leans in. Dean twists his head, managing to turn just enough, Rosco's lips slide and press to the edge of his mouth. The metal clink gets louder when the music coming from the walls ends, and then starts up again. Rosco growls in frustration, forcing Dean's head back into place. 

Dean twists his hands as hard as he can, his tore skin dripping with blood now. Rosco leans in for the second time, making sure to keep a good hold on Dean's head. Panic bubbles in his chest, and makes it's way to his throat. He screams, with everything he has left in his body. 

He's cut off quickly though, Rosco faster than Dean thought he would be. He tightens his hold on Dean's neck, until he coughs and kicks out against it. His legs kick out, and he manages to get one good kick to Rosco's chest before the man manages to wiggle himself in between Dean's legs. 

He's a lot closer now, too close. Dean can smell his cologne, can smell the tobacco on his breath as it ghosts over his lips. He feels sick, the room spinning around him. 

Rosco loosens his hold, massaging Dean's aching neck as he coughs. His eyes water as he watches Rosco lean in for the third time. 

This time his lips do connect with Dean's. He's hesitant at first, pressing his lips in carefully. Realizing that this is the very first time he has ever got to kiss Dean. Alastair never let anyone other than him kiss Dean, that's the one thing that he kept for himself.

Then he seems to realize what he's doing and dive's in. His teeth smack against Dean's, and he nips harshly at his quivering bottom lip. He groans into the kiss, his hand loosening around his wrist. Dean sobs into the kiss, pulling his wrists and head back away from his grip. 

Rosco takes his vulnerability as an invitation, his tongue plunges into Dean's mouth. He explores eagerly, his tongue running across Dean's teeth, and his tongue. Rosco caresses his neck, gently rolling his thumb across his adams apple. Dean can hear his heartbeat in his ears, panic clutching every part of his body, his skin prickling in the cold. 

He sobs again, his eyes blurring over with overwhelming tears. Rosco licks into his mouth once more, then releases his hold on dean's neck. His lips slip off, Dean falling forward with a shiver. He face plants on Rosco's hard shoulder with another gasp. Fire explodes through his nose, white dots covering his vision for a moment. 

He Gasps in, over and over again, not feeling like he can get enough air. Rosco's breath washes over Dean's neck, his lips pressing against his neck a moment later. He traces the scar there with his tongue, moaning against his skin.

Dean cries out in surprise when Rosco sinks his teeth into his neck. He reaches up to cover Dean's mouth with his hand. The smell of smoke and oil fills Dean's nose as he breathes in through his nose. 

He sobs desperately, kicking as best as he can. He only manages to get Rosco more worked up with the friction he's creating. And he manages to make his wrist bleed even more than it was before. 

Before he knows it Rosco's moved up to Dean's ear, and is whispering almost lovingly. His hand falls away from his mouth, Dean gasps in much needed breath. 

"I've wanted this for so long, you have no idea." He growls, running his fingers over Dean's chest. "Since the first time I saw you." he moans, running his fingers through Dean's hair.

"Alastair didn't love you…" he trails off, hurt spiking through Dean's chest. "Not Like I do." he finishes, a smile spreading against Dean's cheek.

"Stop." Dean whispers, hoping that Rosco heard him. 

"I can take care of you…I can make you feel good." He mumbles, licking a strip of dean's neck, long and slow. 

Dean cries out. "Please…….stop." he sobs, struggling against his hold. Rosco's tongue feels like poison against his skin, it feels disgusting. It makes Dean feel dirty, contaminated. 

"Make you feel so…good." He moans, his breath pushing out against his ear, his hand pushing up under Dean's shirt. Rosco's hands are warm, adding to Dean's already overheated skin. His rough fingers trail up over his stomach, lingering and pushing in against his skin.

"No!" Dean shouts, his throat burning from disuse. He catches Rosco off guard, his large hand pulling back like he's been shocked. He leans back, his lust filled eyes finding Dean's again, the brown is hot with rage, like trees on a fire. He glares, his lip twitching up in annoyance. 

Dean has a second to panic and think 'oh shit'. Then Rosco's hand is snapping out towards him like lightening, he grabs a hold of Dean's neck again. Tightening his hold until he sees stars, and thinks that Rosco might break his neck. His neck pops with pressure, spit overflowing his once dry mouth. White dots prickle his vision, the buzz of the light behind Rosco suddenly too loud, the bass running through the air too much. His mouth hangs wide with numbness, his eyes tearing up and practically popping out of his head. 

"Your lucky anyone wants you." he pauses, his face suddenly close to his again. He nips at Dean's bottom lip, a cruel smile spreading across his lips. "Your so dirty." He growls, his eyes locked with Dean's fading one's. "Worthless just like Alastair warned me." Rosco presses, his weight pushing Dean's own hand into his burning chest. He collapses back against the couch, his chest like heavy steel.

"Used." He finishes, rolling the word around on his tongue, chuckling. 

Dean gasps in his hold, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. Not only because it hurts, but because he can't fucking breath, and he can't control the way his body is reacting. 

He knows.

He knows this already.

Alastair never failed to remind him every single day.

Dean lets out a scream, that only comes out as a pathetic squeak. Which only serves him with a mocking smile from Rosco.

He smashes his lips with Dean's again, teeth catching his lip and tearing it open. White dots begin to cover the remaining corners of his vision, swallowing him whole. Rosco ruts himself in between Dean's legs, pressing his tongue in through his un responding lips. 

Except for this time….

This time red over takes the white dots, and Dean wants to fight. 

He wants to grab a hold of the bastards neck and rip his throat out. Not just pass out like he would have before. He's not that man anymore, he never really was. Alastair just made him believe that he was. But we all know dean Winchester. And that was not the Dean he knows. 

In fact the old Dean would never sit here and take this from anyone. He would fight, and he would win.

He growls low in his throat, Rosco not seeming to notice a change. He opens and closes his fingers, his hand going numb from Where Rosco grips his wrist. His knuckles turn white as he clenches them into a fist again. Then he twists his arm experimentally, Rosco seems too preoccupied to notice that he has loosened his grip just slightly. Dean take his opportunity, and twists his arm again, faster, and harder this time. His whole body turns with him putting his weight into the pull.

The man grunts in surprise, his lips sliding off of Dean's, one hand sliding off of his wrist, but the other still clinging to his neck cutting off any air supply. Dean swings his arm back, then pushes it forward as hard and fast as he can. He does it exactly like he remembers, get's flashbacks of Skin under his knuckles, bones breaking under his fists. Air rushes over his hand, just as the adrenaline does through his blood. He doesn't really seem to know where his fist will connect, too blinded by rage to watch his fist fly through the air. But he has a good feeling about it. 

Especially as his knuckles slap into Rosco's rough cheek, a crack of bone against bone feeling shooting up towards his shoulder. It hurts.

But then again, it feels fucking fantastic.

"Rosco!" comes a terrified female voice, from the door way behind Rosco. Dean almost thinks he is dreaming, but then rosco falls to the ground with a loud thud, and his hands drop Dean to the couch. His body heat completely gone, cold air rushing over Dean like a wave.

Dean falls across the cushions, coughs, struggles to breath, his hand grabbing and tugging at anything in sight. His other hand pinned awkwardly behind him, the cuffs digging into the ruined skin. He's aware of arguing somewhere close by, but he can't focus on the words. The conversation is heated, loud enough to drown out the music blaring through the walls. 

Dean concentrates on breathing, his chest burning with the effort. He can smell the smoke again, and hear some harsh words being shouted a couple of feet away. 

The yelling cuts off abruptly, and he tenses when he hears pairs of footsteps come towards the couch. Dean struggles to regain his composer, pushing and grabbing at the couch desperately. He feels the rush of air next to him as someone leans down. Dean's chest tightens and he panics. 

"Stop!" he yells, as loud as his ruined throat will let him. His back hitting against the back of the couch, as he falls back.

A gentle hand touches his shoulder, Dean's eyes fly open in the darkness. 

Dark messy hair is the first thing he sees, and immediately panic and anger is replaced with relief. Dean practically lunges himself into Cas, his arm wrapping around his shoulder, and his face buried in his neck. Dean inhales his sweet scent, Castiel hugs Dean in return, shushing him calmly.

"Why the hell was Rosco in here!?" Castiel growls from where he kneels on the floor. Talking to the strange lady from before. Dean squeaks against his neck, tugging himself closer against Cas' chest.. Dean can’t hear most of what he's saying, his heartbeat too loud in his ears, his chest too tight where he's pressed in close to Cas. But it's calming anyhow, just the rumble of Castiel's voice, so near. 

"I don't know! He was locked in the other room knocked out last time I checked." The woman yells back, less anger in her voice than before. A tone of guilt spikes her voice, and Dean briefly wonders why she would feel guilty. Castiel growls, low inside of his throat. He stops whispering into Dean's ear, and he immediately misses the rumble. A shiver runs through his body, as fear and anger starts to fill his bones again.

Castiel doesn't seem to notice, as he continues talking to the woman. 

"Did you at least make sure he was going to stay put, before running off somewhere else?" He growls, his head bumping into Dean's as he turns his face towards the door. 

Dean can hear music again, as the woman snaps her mouth shut, and thinks. Castiel huffs a breath, running his fingers through Dean's sweaty hair. He shakes flashbacks from his nightmare away, waiting for Cas' soothing voice to return. 

He feels pathetic, being held like this. A shaking mess in Castiel's arms all because someone kissed him..

Castiel presses a kiss to Dean's cheek, almost as if he knows what Dean is thinking about. The woman clears her throat, footsteps hesitantly coming towards the couch. Castiel remains unfazed, Dean on the other hand cowers back, tugging on Cas. Silently telling him to follow, although Castiel keeps his hold on Dean, and refuses to move away from the woman. 

"Cas…" she trails off, her voice small, a tint of fear in just that one word. Castiel looks up at her, massaging Dean's scalp where he was just running his fingers through. 

"Hmm?" He answers, his hand wondering over the nape of Dean's neck. 

Her voice is closer when she speaks again. "Rosco was handcuffed when I left him in that room." she says, more fear making it's way into her voice. 

Castiel tenses a little, pulling Dean in closer. There's a whoosh of air as the woman crouches down next to Cas. Dean tenses, pulling back once more. 

"Castiel?" she whispers, a cold hand bursting Dean out of his bliss as cold fingers wrap gently around his left arm. He jumps away. His feet pushing off of the ground. With a jolt his arm snaps straight and the cuff around his wrist clinks against the metal frame. 

The hand in his hair freezes, castiel's head snapping up from Dean's shoulder. His blue eyes seem to glow in the dark room, as he stares wide eyed down at Dean's bleeding wrist. 

Dean twists away, attempting to hide the damage done to his arm. Castiel's arm snaps out, and he grabs a hold of Dean's arm, gently. His eyes scan the injury in the dim blue light, terror, anger, and hurt flashing across his face. 

The woman stares too, disbelief etched across her beautiful features. Dean stares at her instead, his eyes wondering over her long hair, and her round face. He wonders who she is? How he knows her? 

But then again, he thinks he remembers her from somewhere. She looks so familiar..

"These are the cuffs." She breathes, her voice so quiet that Dean has to strain to hear, her eyes latch onto Cas. She completely avoids looking at Dean, her eyes skimming past him, over to Castiel. 

Castiel tilts his head to the side, in that adorable way he always does. "What?" he blurts, running his fingers gently over the cooling blood across the silver metal. Dean flinches back from the touch, even though he knows he's perfectly safe, and there is no pain behind Cas' touch. His eyebrows pinch together, his lips turned down into a deep frown as he takes his hand back briefly from Dean's skin. His wrist is already blooming purple, the blood stopped and drying. Dean thinks of all the times he's seen his skin this way, especially his wrists and neck. It seems so normal, like those bruises belong there, as if they weren't then Dean would be lost. Al always had such a weird obsession with leaving those marks across his body. As soon as one bruise would begin to fade, Alastair always noticed and never failed to leave a fresh new one over the top of the old. A smile gracing his lips as his bony fingers traced over them. 

"These are the handcuffs that I locked Rosco up with." she clarifies, an annoyed hint to her hard tone. Her cold fingers brush against Dean's wrist, a light touch to his overheated skin. He inhales a sharp breath, pulled out of his head abruptly. His fingers tug Castiel's shirt, blood sliding across his knuckles, a faint sting across his skin. The smell of green apples grounding him to earth. Cas' eyes are locked with Dean's when he looks up from the scraggly couch. Deep blue pools staring into him. A frown still tugs on his lips as he lets his gaze wonder over Dean's face. 

He holds the stare for a moment, his own gaze flickering across Cas' face. He's grateful that Cas showed up when he did. Because if not…Dean would be in much more trouble than he is now. Rosco wouldn't have stopped, not until he was satisfied. Not until Dean was sobbing with desperation, shaking with fear, and bleeding across the already musty smelling couch beneath him. Or until Dean was covered in someone else's blood, and his knuckles were torn to pieces.

Castiel's touch pulls him back to reality. His hand brushes across Dean's cheek, his eyes on fire with rage as his soft fingers follow down to the dark bruises forming across his neck. The anger seems to intensify as his fingertips trail across the raw skin across his neck. Dean lowers his eyes from Castiel's gaze, a tremor of fear running across his skin. Goose bumps raise, a single uncomfortable wiggle of his body. 

Cas doesn't seem to notice Dean's fear, as his hand wraps around his neck, his fingers sliding over the bruises. He lays his palm there, a soft non threatening touch. His eyes seem to disconnect as he stares at his hand wrapped around Dean's neck. 

He waits for the tightening to come, for Castiel to grab a hold of his neck the way Al used to do, the way John did. But it never comes, the air continues to flow through his lungs effortlessly. Castiel just stares blankly down at his fingers. The woman beside them is forgotten, as she places a gentle hand on Cas' shoulder. 

Her touch seems to startle him out of his trance. His eyes flick up to Dean's, deep sadness residing there. His jaw bulges as he clenches his jaw, locking eyes with Dean. He stares back in confusion, swallowing past the tightness in his throat, his adam's apple rubbing across Cas' fingers as he does. 

Castiel's chin trembles slightly, his eyes widening as one tear falls free and runs down his cheek. Dean feels his chest constrict, the fingers wrapped in Castiel's shirt tugging him forward on impulse. 

It's all over too soon though, Castiel rises abruptly, his hand falling away from Dean's neck, and Dean's fingers ripped from the back of his shirt. A breath rushes out of him as he sees Cas spin on his heel and take long strides towards the door. 

The woman is on her feet just as fast. She doesn’t try to stop Cas, only follows him right out the door with a concerned expression.

Dean stares after them in shock, music still pouring in from the empty dark hallway.  
…..

 

Castiel all but explodes inside of the room. The heavy dark painted door crashing into the wall behind, little flecks of drywall raining across the floor. His breath comes hard, and stutters as he lays eyes on Rosco deep inside of the room. The man doesn't even acknowledge his existence when he crashes into the small dim room. Castiel knows he knows that he is there, but he holds himself as if nothing in the world could bother him. 

Rosco's large hands move over his face, dabbing a small washcloth they use to clean the bar with, and wiping the blood from his cheekbone, where a large gash spreads across. Some blood still pouring sluggishly from below his eye, which is now swollen and red, the blood running into his unkempt brown beard. Dean must have hit him pretty damn hard for the whole side of his face to look like it does. Good, Castiel thinks, he deserves it.

The once white washcloth is now red, as Rosco assesses the damage in a small mirror that hang across the room. A few small cracks run through the glass, the mirror so old that reflections are barely recognizable anymore. He practically glares into his own reflection, grimacing as he presses down against the wound. He's most likely still steaming about the way Dean fought back, trying to think of a way to get revenge. Which in no way is ever going to happen. Rosco will be lucky if ever he lives to see the light of day again after Cas is done with him.

Castiel realizes that he has stopped in the doorway, and is just staring at the sight before him. His hand clutches the doorframe so hard that when he releases it, blood rushes back in and it prickles uncomfortably. He opens and closes his hand twice, the feeling coming back into his fingers. He switches on his feet, the remnants of anger still hot in his blood. But he waits patiently for Rosco to come to his senses and acknowledge him. It would be the smart thing to do anyhow. Seeming as how Castiel is ready to just storm in and kill the bastard without ever getting the answers he wants. 

The man's brown eyes narrow in on his own reflection, and he rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. He must have hit the floor pretty hard as well, when Castiel threw him back from where he was kneeling in between Dean's leg's. Fury rears it's ugly head again at the thought of the bastards intentions towards Dean. He takes one step forward, clearing his throat. Rosco makes no move once again, gently wiping his face down once more. He throws the cloth aside, and spits blood into the sink. Sighing he runs a hand down his face, looking up at the large split skin across his cheek. He glares at it, smoothing his shirt down one handedly. 

Castiel notices that Rosco is cuffed again, to a metal bar that protrudes from the wall. It looks rusty, but strong. Meg must have had one of the servers do it for her, while Castiel was busy. But unlike Dean's cuffed wrist, his isn't bleeding, or bruised. Which seems to piss Cas off even more. The metal should be so tight that it cuts into his skin, that his fingers are purple. Someone should feel the same pain that Dean had to live through. Castiel waits, his face like stone, and his posture looking calm. Even though there's a raging fire spreading through his bones. He knows he has an advantage, he can play this game just as well as Rosco can. 

That is until Rosco's lips spread over his teeth, and his cheeks raise into a smile. Not just any smile but a mocking one, one that has so many memories, so many secrets, and so much blood hidden behind it. He keeps his eyes focused on his own reflection the entire time. But he knows that Cas is there, and he is mocking him. Showing him that he isn't scared, that He knows Cas doesn't have the guts to hurt him. Showing him that he used, and hurt Dean and there is nothing he can do about it. 

Castiel storms towards Rosco, rage so hot that his skin burns with it. Rolling up his sleeves as he does, his one hand still a little numb. He figures that he doesn't want to get blood on his nice shirt. He's breathing hard again, huffing through his nose in large bursts. Castiel's aware of Meg closing the door behind him, so that none of the guests at the bar tonight can hear what goes on. 

Rosco keeps up his little façade the entire time Castiel's walking over to him. He never makes a move of acknowledgement, other than his smile fading from his lips, and his eyes flickering in the slightest bit as Cas gets closer. He wants to give his own smile. Because yes, he is going to enjoy this, and yes he has been waiting for this moment for the longest time. But he doesn't, he manages to keep his face like stone, and his steps even.

The room is larger than the one Dean is in, but it's also a lot older. Filled with, boxes, old books, chairs from the bar before. The other room, was a newer addition to the old building. So it's a lot cleaner and is less of a storage room than the rest. None the less, Castiel still takes long strides, and makes it over to Rosco in a matter of seconds. 

Rosco doesn't flinch, doesn’t' even move as Castiel stops behind him. Actually he's completely still, even his eyes are locked in one place, staring at the gash across his cheek. Castiel wonders if it's fear, if the bastard is actually afraid of him. Seeming as how last time they saw each other, Castiel knocked Rosco out cold with one punch.

Good. Rosco should be scared. He touched something that was in no way right for him to have. And still the bastard ignores him.

Castiel wastes no more time. He reaches out, quickly, and clamps down hard on Rosco's shoulder. He twitches away, but only slightly. Castiel digs his fingers in through his thin t shirt, makes sure he has a good hold, then spins the large man around. 

It’s easier than he thought it would be. Rosco goes willingly, turning so that they are fully facing each other. Now that they are face to face, those hard brown eyes clamp onto him. And Castiel glares back, with all of the ice and fury burning in his eyes. 

He shoves, with his whole weight against Rosco. Pushing him back, until his back crashes against the mirror, shattering it into millions of pieces. The shards rain down around their feet. Castiel's shoes crunch as he steps closer, tightening his hold on Rosco's shoulder. 

Next thing Rosco knows, Castiel's fist connects with his temple, pain exploding thick and heavy. Then blackness.

….

A thick fog hangs over him when he opens his eyes again. Bright lights sending a sharp pain through his head, as they blind him above. He notices the kink in his neck, as he lifts it from were it rests on his shoulder. Then everything registers around him.

His hands are bound, behind his back, his fingers numb with how tight there tied. He's bound with rope, thick long rope. He's sitting in a chair, just a plain dark wood one. Probably out of one of the storage rooms in the bar. Both of his feet are tied to each of the chair's legs, tightly. 

He can feel the pounding headache, from getting knocked out earlier. And he can also feel that the gash across his cheek has started to bleed again. Thick warm blood leaking down into his beard, and dripping onto his shirt and pants. 

He's sweating as he looks around the room. The air too hot around him, sweat dripping down his four head and back. He sees dusty tables, stacked atop of each other. The air musty with the old junk, Crowley always has been a pack rat. 

He twists his head uncomfortably, looking back over his shoulder. There's a couch there, just like most of the rooms. Then there's the broken mirror from before, he must be in the same room, just more lighting than before. 

He turns back around, licking some of the dried blood off of his lips. It tastes like iron, a taste that he'll never get used too, but has always enjoyed. The small door is shut tightly in front of him, probably Castiel's doing. 

He's still kinda pissed about the fact that the man thinks he owns Dean now. When he doesn't, Rosco calls dibs, fair and square. 

He can still hear music blaring through the thin walls, so it must not be too late. The bar is probably still crawling with people. 

He yawns out of boredom, clenching and un clenching his fists behind him. What's he whole point of this anyhow? 

Rosco has never been all to murderous, but right now he could go for a little blood. Castiel's blood would be even better. Or maybe Dean's…He bet's his would taste sweet, he barely remembers how he tasted before. 

The door swings open before he can stew on that thought for too long. 

"Castiel!" He drawls sarcastically, giving his best grin towards the man.

Sharp blue eyes snap to him, a glare in return. Another man follows in after Castiel, a taller man. His brown hair flops just above his shoulders, his bangs falling into his face as his fox slanted eyes land on Rosco as well. 

"Who's this?" He chirps, raising an eyebrow. Castiel ignores him, looking back to the other man briefly. They both stop a few feet from where he's tied. 

Castiel glares, while the other one looks forward curiously. He obviously doesn't know who Rosco is, or what he's done. His smile widens. 

"Rosco." Castiel growls, his jaw bulging as raging icy eyes stare at him. 

"Yes?" He answers, his head swinging to the side to look straight at Castiel. He's wearing the same shirt as before, a small droplet of blood next to the collar. Probably his blood, he thinks licking his lip again. 

Castiel doesn’t answer, clearly irrated with Rosco's comments. He taps a foot against the thinly lined carpet, his eyes flicking over to the larger man beside Castiel.

He looks a lot like Dean in a way, not nearly as weak, or appetizing, but a lot like him anyhow. Rosco raises his brows as the larger man catches his gaze and starts forward. 

"Why did you follow Dean?" He growls, all innocent and doe eyed. He huffs a laugh, of course this is about Dean.

"Why's it matter to you?" He asks back, his lip twitching up in annoyance.   
He starts back with an answer, but Castiel cuts him off. "Just answer the question." he snaps. Rosco looks back over to him, flicking his eyes over his lean body.

"What makes you think I followed him?" Rosco asks, stilling his foot against the floor. 

Castiel's eyes get harder, as do the mans beside him.

"Rosco." the man says threateningly, straightening his shoulders. Castiel huffs beside him, looking completely calm with murderous eyes. 

He lets silence pass for a moment, contemplating if he should just tell the truth, just to see the pissed off faces, and mess with their heads. Or if he should bullshit his way through. He clears his throat, and makes his decision. 

"Couldn't let Alastair's property go out without protection." He pauses, smiling the sweetest smile he can manage. "There are bad people out here these days, he could have been hurt." He drawls, shrugging. 

Castiel practically snarls in anger, while the other man's glare finally slips into place. The puppy dog face disappearing completely. He switches his footing, balling his fists as he stares down at Rosco.

It's silent, for a long time, long enough that Rosco starts to shift in his seat. 

Castiel is the first to speak, his voice somehow too loud even though he whispers. 

"Alastair's dead." He says, his eyes locked onto Rosco's.

He hates that his words make his lip come up in anger, because he didn't much care for Al. but he was still a friend, and it still sends fury through his blood. 

"And he didn't own Dean." The other man adds. 

Rosco actually raises an eyebrow at that, a laugh bubbling out of his chest. Castiel is taken back, his head tilting to the side in confusion. The taller man holds his glare, furrowing his brows. 

"You really don't know? Do you?" He asks, chuckling again, shaking his head. 

"Know what?" Castiel snaps back, taking a step forward. 

His lips spread into a grin again. 

"John sold his boy off a long time ago." He drawls, relaxing into his seat. 

Castiel's stiffens, his knuckles white as both fists clench. The taller man on the other hand looks disgusted, his eyes wide as he lowers his gaze to the floor.

"To none other than Alastair." He finishes, chuckling at the shock written across both of the men's faces. 

Sam chokes back the tears, the anger, the betrayal. His father. His blood, his fucking family. He sold Dean off like he was cattle, like he was a thing to be owned, and used. No wonder the man drank, no one could live with that on their shoulders. But Dean….Oh god, Dean. His brother probably doesn't even know. And Sam didn't either. He was selfish, he left his brother behind to attend Stanford. He could have stopped John, he could have saved Dean from all of his pain. 

He's brought back out of his head, when he hears a laugh. Rosco's laugh. Sam raises his eyes again, looking at the man in confusion. Except for those brown eyes stare right past him, and Cas. 

"Nice of you to join us." Rosco smiles towards the door. 

Sam spins around so fast that his head spins. 

Dean. 

Dean is standing in the doorway. He looks so lost standing there, his eyes locked on Rosco. 

All at once his mask breaks, into something much worse, fear, sadness, betrayal. 

"Dean." Castiel whispers, taking a small step towards him. 

Dean is startled out of his trance. His eyes flick up to Cas, then over to Sam. 

And then he takes off down the hallway.

"Dean!"  
….  
.  
.  
.  
..  
.  
It's so scary when someone mentally ill and suicidal falls in love.   
They start feeling whole, like they've got a purpose, a reason to be here, a reason to stay and try.   
But what happens when the person who saved them, leaves.   
What happens when that person takes away all of the hope and love and beauty and they rip out all the stitches they'd used to put there partner together again and the broken soul is left worse than they were before.


	47. Chapter 47

He steps out of his car into the chilly night air. Pulls his leather jacket over his shoulders, and shrugs the nervous feeling from his skin. The hair on the back of his neck raises as autumn air rushes across the empty street. His door squeaks as he pushes the thing closed, it seems to echo through the empty space. There are no people on the streets at this time of night. Not even a single car passing on the wet roads that surround. Which, he guesses, is why he picked this place. It's not the safest place, nor the best, especially to be wondering around alone. But it's private, no one sticking their noses were they shouldn’t. Everyone looks after themselves, and keeps their business private. Plus no one is going to mess with them out here. They may stare, like the older man in the tall building across the street, peaking out his curtains with a scowl. Or even the young man shivering against the stop sign a block down, nervously twitching back and forth. Hell, they may even talk. He just hopes they know to keep out, or else. 

But just in case they do, there's a gun tucked safely in the waist band of his jeans, and a knife in his boot. Not like he would go anywhere without them, but in this part of town they seem to weigh on him even more than before. The heavy presence is a comfort. 

The one and only streetlight remaining in this part of town, flickers above him, threatens to go out. It illuminates the graffiti tagging the heavy brick walls on the street. Most of it the color purple, supposedly the gang color in this part of town. He looks at the large buildings, they are mostly all abandoned, used as storage, or completely destroyed that they are considered unstable, and dangerous. He let's his eyes travel up the tallest of them, some still have statues guarding the sky's. But most are nothing but crumbled rock, destroyed pieces of art. He doubts anyone even lives here anymore, not like they used too. 

He turns his attention away from the gloomy buildings. Instead he stares down the alley way, directly in front of him. He's supposed to be meeting the man there. He's early, almost by an hour, but he just knows that the man is already there, waiting for him. It's too dark to see anything, not from here anyway. It's just a long black alley, the occasional rattling of shouting, or garbage, distant cars whizzing by on the freeway not to far from here. It looks just the same as the rest of the rotting town, dark, spray painted, and dirty. He sighs, his nerves kicking up again. He quietly curses for them to stop, running a hand over his prickly face. It took him almost a month to just get were he is standing now. And he knows that he has to do it. No matter what his body tells him, he has too. 

He starts to walk towards the alley, taking a deep breath through his nose and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his worn leather jacket. It's now or never. 

Nerves are swimming inside of him. He's usually not a nervous guy, but tonight he has an excuse to be. He shoves those down, as far as he can. He can’t let him see how much this effects him. He's not weak. 

He knows it's wrong. Knows that Mary would frown down at him at this moment. But he has no choice, this is the only way. He's has dug himself in so deep this time that this is the only way he can climb back out. 

John also knows how much this would hurt his son. That's why he is not going to tell Dean, he is going to let this man take his son and pretend that he knows nothing about it.

God. But this wrong feeling in his gut is killing him. His feet feel heavy, like they're dragging across the concrete beneath him. The weight of his gun only seems to get heavier as he walks. As does the weight across his shoulders. But that doesn't stop him, because he doesn't have a choice. 

He owes some very important men, a very large amount of money. And he can't seem to afford to feed himself, let along his son. They've been living in the impala for some time now. And there's only so many times you can cram yourself into that thing to sleep before you break. 

He's offered a lot of money, enough that John wont ever have to work again. He can pay off all of his debts, and stop gambling like he used to, forever. 

And all he has to do is sell off his first born. Dean has been promised a good life from here on out. He wont have to take care of his deadbeat father. He will never go hungry again. And he will have somewhere to live, someone that loves him. 

He wants better for Dean. He wants his son to be happy. 

The alley smells of piss, and garbage. The wind that blows through it sounds like whispers. Leaves skipping across the concrete, clinging to the walls. Large shadows play across the dirty bricks as he walks.

It feels like he's going to sell his soul. Make a deal with the devil, and live happily ever after. If only it were that easy. 

John's pretty sure the guy is evil. Hell, for all he knows the man could be the devil himself. He huffs a humorless laugh.

He spots the man right away. He's tall, out of place, leaning casually against the brick wall. There's a cigarette clutched between his fingers, the cherry lighting up when he takes a drag. John notices the other two men behind him right away, he's never seen either before, but he figures it's for protection. They eye him as he gets closer, making no move other than a tap on the taller man's shoulder. 

John straightens his shoulders, and takes the last steps towards them. He flicks his cigarette away, the ashes scattering before the wind puts them out, and the butt lands somewhere in the dark. His eyes lock onto Johns like steel when he looks up again. He gives his best glare right back, and places a hand next to his gun, in a ready position just in case anything happens. 

He doesn't get too close, stops a few feet away from the lanky man. John finds something off about him, more so than usual, but shakes the feeling quickly. 

He has to remember that this isn't a choice. The man came to him, he offered him. John only has to agree, and hand Dean over. 

It's not that bad.

His son will be fine. He's a soldier, he's strong.

"Have you made up your mind?" That nasally voice asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. John, clenches his jaw, digs his fingers into his palm. No, he hasn't but this isn't a choice. So he clears his throat, shoves his nails into the palm of his hand and speaks.

"Yes." He growls, keeping his expression hard. The man raises his eyebrows Down at John, his grey eyes still hard and calculating. John switches footing, and growls internally. The man is waiting for more. For John to really confirm the deal. Sick bastard.

"It's a deal." He adds, his chest giving a little twinge of hurt. He surprised that his voice doesn't waver. Or that he doesn't just pull out his pistol and shoot the bastard between the eyes. 

Dean will be fine, he reminds himself, taking a deep breath through his nose. 

The man's thin lips curl over his yellow teeth, his eyes sparking with fire. "Good." He whispers, a gust of wind running through the alley. 

John feels sick as he watches the other men smirk to one another. He feels as though this isn't as innocent as he initially thought. They act like John just gave them a combination to a billionaires safe. What's worse, is he imagines handing over a ten year old Dean. His lanky arms, and large doe eyes refusing to let go of John as he rips the little boy from his arms, from his heart, and hands him over to some strangers that smell of sex and ciggerrete smoke. one of them reaches into his coat pocket, a smirk still plastered across his face. John thinks the worst, wraps a hand around the gun tucked in his jeans, and locks his gaze on the mans swift movements. 

The man chuckles, eyes John's hand. "Down boy." He growls, his eyes amused. He pulls his hand back from his gun as he sees an envelope pulled from the mans pocket. He hands that fat envelope over to the taller man with a nod. 

Those grey eyes snap back over to his, all light gone. He holds the money out towards john, slowly. John reaches out too. He grabs a hold of the paper, still warm from being pressed against the other mans chest. But as John tugs it towards him the man just holds it tighter. His eyes are on fire again when John looks back up at him in confusion. 

"On one condition." the man growls, John glares back up at him. "What?" he snaps. His brain moving to fast with nerves.

"One condition." He repeats, his lips thinning out as he presses them together. He lets the words sink in, holds John's gaze as the older man clenches his jaw. He represses thoughts of Dean, images of how hurt he would be if He ever found out. John blinks back the burning sensation in his eyes, and nods for more. 

"I get full ownership of Dean." He says. A silver glint in his grey eyes. John swallows past the lump in his throat. And nods.

"And." he pauses, just the smallest tilt to his lips.

"Whatever happens to Dean from now on is none of your concern. Deal?" He clarifies, a small smile playing across his lips. 

Johns heart sinks, and his stomach flips. He has no choice. Dean will be okay. He has to be.

"Deal." he agrees, swallowing back his guilt, and panic. 

The rest is all a big blur. He smiles long and wide down at John, letting the money slip from his hand. He tucks the envelope into his jacket pocket, shakes hands with the man, and turns to head back home. 

…….

TBC


	48. Chapter 48

"John sold his boy off a long time ago." Rosco's voice rings.

….

He crashes through the door way, the wood smacking into the wall as his hip connects with the doorknob, and his shoulder cracks across the edge. It sends waves of sharp pain through his hip and arm. He spills out into the hallway, blood rushing from his wrist were the handcuff dug into his skin. He knows he must have ripped the flesh even more than before when he tore himself free earlier. But the pain doesn't seem to matter now, just a dull ache compared to the way his chest feels. Like someone's digging their fingernails into his heart, his soul. He clutches desperately at the wall straight in front of him. He wills his legs to keep him upright, gasping like a fish out of water. He's aware of someone screaming his name, but he tunes it out, his head spinning impossibly fast as the only noise coming through his head is Rosco's laughter from the room behind him. 

Paint comes off under his fingernails, tearing away from wall and cutting into his skin. Dean blinks past the dizzying ache in his head. His chest overwhelmed with anxiety. He hears his name again, and does the only thing he can think of. He let's go of the wall, and runs. He runs as far from those voices as he can. Because he can't take facing Cas too, it will only make things worse. 

The hallway's dim, just like his dream, red walls, black doors, gold doorknobs. He's barely aware as to where he's going. His feet move off of there own accord. The blaring music progressively getting louder as he runs, half stumbling down the hallway. He blinks past the sudden wetness in his eyes. He refuses to cry. He's done feeling bad for himself, done thinking that he has anyone left that loves him. Because it seems that no one truly does anymore. He's been lied too, spit on, kicked, pushed, used, and poisoned. He just can't take it anymore. This is his breaking point. He thought that he had already reached that point. But obviously he didn't. All he needed was one more final shove.

But now he's spiraling, falling, hopelessly clutching onto everything he thinks just might catch him. Such blind faith that he thinks that maybe all of this was his fault in the first place. That he got himself into this mess, no one else. He tries to think of anything he could have done to provoke John. Musters up every fight they had, everything Dean DIDN'T do that maybe he should have. 

And in the end, he comes up with nothing. He has no idea why John would do this to him. Why the only person in this world that Dean thought loved him unconditionally sold him. Hated him enough to sell him. To a complete stranger no less. A stranger that hurt him, that fucking broke him. Another person Dean thought loved him, another person that lied. 

He clutches desperately at the wall beside him, digs his fingers into his thigh with a gasp. He refuses to stop running though, he can still hear that awful laughter in his ears. And he just knows that Cas and Sam are chasing after him. Can feel the presence behind him, feels his spine tingle with panic. He stumbles further down the dark hall, the music so loud that his ears pulse with it. He screams out his despair, tries his hardest to get rid of the tight feeling crushing his chest. His lungs burn as he gasps back in his lost air. 

Then he screams again. 

And again.

Words he doesn’t even care to acknowledge leaving his mouth. He trips over a few boxes, watches as the tower of them spills across the floor. He wants nothing more than to fall to the ground and curl into a ball. Block the world out for a while. But for once, he doesn't want Cas, or his brother, they'll only make things worse. 

He stumbles forward, his legs too heavy to step over the boxes. He trips over them, kicking the smaller ones out of his path. Not that it seems to help though. He can't seem to control his legs, can't see through his tilting blurry vision. Dean growls in frustration, kicks his leg out hard. His hip flares up in pain again, and he lunges forward in frustration. 

Only it doesn't go that smoothly. Dean's foot snags a larger box, get's stuck, and he falls, face forward towards the ground. He braces his arms out in front of him, lands on his hands and knees with a loud crack. Dean curses through his sobs. Slowly he opens up his eyes, even though he doesn’t remember closing them. The carpet is a blur, he sees the unwanted tears dripping from the tip of his nose and soaking into the carpet beneath him. 

He desperately wants to curl into himself, cradle his wrist to his chest, and cry. But he knows that’s not possible, Cas is coming for him. And Rosco is still laughing at him, even over the music Dean swears he can hear it. 

He wipes his nose with his unharmed wrist, and struggles to get to his feet again. He claws at the wall beside him, clutches his churning stomach, and stands on shaky legs. Dean closes his eyes for a moment, the darkness prickling at his vision. He waits for it to pass, then stumbles into a run again, a sob leaving his raw throat. 

He sees the doors to the bar not too far from him, and cries out in relief. Escape. He laughs through his next sob, tripping forward in a panic. His steel toe boots thud heavily, one pair of footsteps in the empty hallway. Then there's the sound of lighter, more athletic steps echoing from behind him. Two pairs of footsteps inside of the dim hallway. 

Dean tries to breath through his next cry, swallowing down his scream for help. It itches at the back of his throat, but he refuses to release it. 

He practically barges through the doors the same way he did to the one back there. The heavy wood closes itself back behind him, still swinging back and forth slightly from force. Dean keeps his head down as he rushes forward into the un noticing crowd. He hiccups, pushing desperately through the crowd as they push back into him. No one pays any attention to him, they keep dancing, happy chatter surrounding him. 

Dean bursts through the crowd a second later, sobbing again as his eyes catch onto Alastair. The same booth they always sit when they come here. 

 

………

 

 

Castiel is frozen to the spot, Rosco's laugh booming from beside him as he watches terrified green eyes flick around the room. Dean seems to lock himself away inside of his head then, his eyes going hazy. His shoulders slump impossibly low, his muscles quivering. He's only there for second, but for Castiel it feels like forever. He watches every single change happen as Rosco's words finally hit home. His own chest twitches in sympathy. 

Dean turns just as fast as he entered, almost slamming head first into the wall ahead. That’s when Castiel's gaze zero's in, the only thing important to him now is Dean, everyone else is forgotten as he yells after him. 

"Dean!" 

Castiel takes off after him, Sam watching from where he stand by Rosco's still laughing form. 

He swings himself around the corner, stopping the door from swinging back and hitting him in the face. He breaks off into a run just in time to see Dean fall face forward to the floor, a few boxes from the tower tumbling to the floor after him. Castiel thinks, he hopes, that Dean just stays there. There's no way he's catching up to him at Dean's pace. 

"Dean!" He yells again, breathing in frantic breaths. 

"Please!" He adds, just as he sees Dean grasp the wall beside him and stumble to his feet. He cries out in fear, running further away from Castiel. 

He's stunned into silence, wondering if he should continue to catch Dean. But then again he can't let him go, who knows what kind of trouble he could get himself into.

 

……

 

Tall, slender arms rest across red plush seats, long fingers tracing missing stitches upon the top. Lights catch deep grey eyes, shadow a sharp jaw, and glint off of a white grin directed towards him. The color of his eyes are soft compared to the deep black shirt he wears. It hugs across his torso, showing off his well built body, and his tall figure. Dean Gasps in relief, tears dripping from his jaw to his shirt. 

His chest hurts with how much he needs Alastair right now. So much that he keens and whimpers without skin to skin contact. Alastair clasps his other hand around a dark drink, his smile still tugging at his lips as he raises the liquid to his lips and gulps it down in one go. He sets his empty glass atop the shining surface, his eyes never leaving Dean's as he motions for Dean to come forward. 

Dean's world slows to a stop. The room seeming to stop spinning for a blessed moment. He hadn't realized just how much he needs this, needs Alastair. Because it's the only thing he's used too, the only constant in his life. His heart in his ears, he takes his first clumsy steps towards comfort. 

His skin itches with need, his chest warms with the love he's been denying himself for so long. Alastair beckons him over, his eyes flicking over Dean briefly with interest. 

As he reaches the table, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears, and his feet clumsy with heavy feet. He looks up and realizes that the booth is in fact, empty. Just a figment of his imagination spilling into the real world. Old memories once again flashing before him. 

Alastair is in fact dead. 

He's never coming back. And even if somehow he did, he would never come back to Dean, he would find his way to Ephraim. 

To someone he loves. 

All at once Dean's world come's crashing back down, with such dizzying pace that he stumbles the rest of the way to the booth just as a powerful sob leaves his throat.

He curls himself into the red booth, music and people still moving frantically around him. Dean hugs his knees to his chest, moves to the middle of the rounded booth, and buries his head into his legs. Breathing in and out as the world seems to slow to a sickening spin. His head pounds as he watches tears fall onto his jeans.

He doesn't want to cry, he doesn't want to feel this unbearable ache in his chest anymore. But he does, even as he tries to shut down his head, he tries not to think about it. But it's the only thing there, the only thing replaying through his head, over and over again. Like a loop of cruel memories just waiting to crush him.

And god.

It hurts.

Hurts so fucking much, that he thinks that his head might explode, or that maybe, just maybe….

He doesn't know. But these flashbacks, the voices in his head aren't making anything better. Flashes of his child hood, his father, Sammy. Then Alastair, his old Al, and then his last words, his confession to Dean. 

He feels arms, hands, lips, pressed against his skin, like ghosts surrounding him. His chest caves in with sobs. Tears soaking into his jeans. Muscles shaking and tensing. He drags in as much air as he can, which isn't much. He pretends that he can feel the warmth of were Al was just sitting. 

His fingertips drag blood from his skin, his wrist still dripping with sluggish blood. 

He feels the rejection more than ever. This is worse than Alastair, because he expected the hit. He knew when the fist was going to come, when the words were going to hurt. His cruel words had a reason behind them. They still hurt of course, but no where near the pain he feels now. No where near the pain he felt when a bomb exploded into his blind spot.

He can't figure out what he did wrong, what went so wrong that John would do this. How many other secrets did he keep? Is Alastair the only person he was offered to? 

What was so wrong with Dean? What did he do wrong? 

He was so sure that everything was fine. Sure he bumped heads with his father, but nothing to serious. Nothing bad enough for john to sell him away like this.

Hell, did Alastair ever love him? Or did john make that happen too? 

Is that why his life went to shit after his father died? Alastair didn't have to keep their contract anymore? 

Dean feels sick, his head spinning into circles. Demons hide in every corner of his mind, no where left to hide for some peace and quiet. 

He wants to scream until he's out of breath. Until he passes out from lack of oxygen.

He wants his mom. 

Fuck.

Dean whimpers into his knees, dragging his nails down his arms. He leaves red marks all the way down his bicep and forearm. The pain does nothing to distract him though. So he does it again.

And again. 

Until his arms ache, and his fingertips are numb. 

He's sure he's hyperventilating now, tears still rolling out from his tired puffy eyes. He's sure everything's spinning around him, much faster than before. 

He wishes that his Dad were still alive. 

So he could see him.

Apologize.

Maybe even confirm this as a lie…

A firm hand on his neck pulls him from his thoughts. With a start, he flinches back, catching his body from collapsing backward with a hand on the bench beneath him. Dean pulls in a quick breath, pain spreading up from his wrist. He cradles it to his chest, smearing blood along the front of it. Slowly, he lowers his legs back to the ground, sitting inside of the booth like a normal person. 

He searches the room around him, the booth is empty. No one close enough to him too touch. People continue to dance around him, happy chatter surrounding his frantic thoughts. 

He's practically invisible to the people around him. 

Dean sniffs, checking beside him one more time. 

No one. 

He hugs his knees to his chest once more, resting his tired head against his knees. 

 

…..

 

Castiel bursts through the swinging doors, right after Dean. He panics as people swarm the room, covering Dean's retreating body. He squints through the crowd, looking for any sign of the man. When he does spot him, he watches Dean curl himself into a booth near the back, and breaths out a sigh of relief. Dean just needs to be alone for now, just until Castiel takes care of some other business. 

Castiel turns to the bar, his eyes catching onto long blonde hair. He pushes over to meg, completely ignoring Conner's eyes on him the whole way he goes. He's sure he's quite a sight to see, dark circles under his anger lined face, a blood splattered wrinkled dress shirt, and jeans that he hasn't changed in a few days. His hair sticks up in every which way, and probably still smells like the hospital. His knuckles are already split from the punch he delivered to Rosco, and the last time he was seen in this bar he knocked the man out cold in front of everyone. 

So yes. He imagines he looks a mess. 

Meg sets the glass she was just working on in front of a young red headed woman, a small smile splayed on her lips as she turns away. She seems to know his presence because she immediately wipes the alcohol off of her hands onto a white washcloth, and meets him halfway behind the bar. Castiel levels her with a look, tucking his split knuckles into his pocket. She glances around the room once, then stops in front of him, returning a equally serious look. 

"Thought you'd be longer-" She jokes, swiping a strand of hair from her face. Castiel clenches his jaw, red still dangerously prickling at his vision. Her brown eyes harden, and she clamps her mouth shut. 

"Watch him for me." is all he says, nodding his head in Dean's direction. 

Concern flickers over her gaze as her eyes land on Dean. She turns softer eyes on Castiel, and he has no choice but to soften his look as well. 

"What about you?" she asks, her gaze harder as she looks up at him through her lashes. Castiel glances back over to Dean. He can see his body shaking from here, his form looking a lot smaller than the days when Castiel would see him with Alastair. The realization that Dean picked the same booth as he and Alastair always shared hits him hard. He hadn’t realized this before, but now that he watches Dean claw into his arms with bony hands pain constricts his heart. 

A dark corner of his mind tells him, reminds him, that Dean still finds comfort in the bastard. He still longs after the other man, he seeks out his presence everywhere. He curls into it like a content cat. 

And an even worse part of him screams out in agony, because Dean still loves Alastair. 

Even is he wont admit it, Castiel knows. 

Meg switches her footing, regaining Castiel's attention with her sharp gaze. "Just-" he pauses glancing over to Dean once more briefly. "Just look out for him, for me." 

Meg's eyes flick to the ground as she chews on her lip. "Alright." She agrees, shoving him playfully out of the way as a costumer waves her over. 

Castiel let's the smallest smile grace his lips as he turns back around. He snatches a bottle of whiskey on his way out, taking a large gulp as he pushes through the swinging doors. The hallway smells of sweat, and dust, cardboard of the boxes adding to the familiar smell. They still lay scattered across the floor, where Dean had knocked them. But he can't find it in him to care, or clean up the mess. 

….

 

He still remembers the feeling of metal cuffs around his wrists, heavy like anchors in the ocean. Dragging him down until he's out of breath, until his lungs fill with water and darkness engulfs him. They were old, rust covering most of the clanky things. Metal attached to chains, chains attached to the wall, hammered in like the medieval times. The edges were sharp, dug into his skin like knives if he moved. Not that moving would get him anywhere, the chains where barley long enough for him to rest his head on his knees without an uncomfortable stretch. 

It smelled like blood. Blood, and rot, mixed with just a hint of dust. Dean always knew that he was smelling his own blood. That the dark spots covering the concrete floor weren't just normal stains. No. They were caused by him. Him and his stupidity. Alastair would have never done the things he did if Dean wouldn't have provoked him. 

Stupid. 

What's even worse is that he remembers, he feels all of it. Even if it happened forever ago, he can feel, and smell it sometimes. It was always so dark, and quiet. No windows. A heavy locked door. Wooden stairs. And one flimsy, flickering light bulb hanging in the middle of the room. Alastair never turned it on. He liked the dark, he liked to release Dean and give him the chance to run. 

Of course by that point Dean was weak, hungry, and most times sick and bleeding. So there wasn't much fight left in him. Al always caught him, fucked him bloody into the dirty concrete. Cruel words spit into his face as the room spinned.

And still somehow. Somehow it all hurt less than now. He could at least expect what was coming next. The same routine everyday. He hurt less. His chest hurt less. Because he still believed that someone loved him. That his life was normal. 

That everything was going to be okay. 

He thought. 

Dean doesn't know what brought him back to that memory. But he only manages to make his chest hurt even more. His heart fucking aches for Alastair. Still. After all that he has been through….he still wants Al's long arms to wrap around him. For his slithery voice to tell him that everything's going to be okay. Just like the night he found him in the rain. He wants him to say he loves him.

Just once more. 

He needs it. 

Dean almost wishes he were to wake and find himself chained to the cold basement wall. That he dreamt of all of this. 

The only downside to that would be losing Cas. 

Because Dean thinks he might just love those blue eyes more than the grey. He just doesn't feel like he's good enough for that. That he will ruin Castiel, that he is just an inconvenience. Castiel shouldn’t have to deal with him. He's broken, useless. 

He doesn't think he can ever be loved the way he needs, the way he wants. Not because Castiel can do just that. But because he doesn't deserve it. 

Any of it.

Dean lets his head loll to the side, and drift into darkness. 

……

 

.  
.  
.  
.  
..  
Who's that shadow holding me hostage I've been here for days? Who's that whisper telling me that lm never gonna get away?


	49. Chapter 49

Another blow lands across his cheek, blood spraying from his mouth as his head snaps to the side with force. Red tinged spit slides down his chin as he grins with stained teeth up at dark golden eyes. He rolls his jaw with a grimace, his smile fading for just a moment. There's a deep ache radiating through his teeth to his head. Thick copper blood pooling into his mouth as he pushes on a loose tooth with his tongue. Anger rears it's ugly head as he lets his eyes travel slowly back up long legs. He locks eyes, all of his rage channeled into a glare towards the man before him. 

There's a moment of silence where the two men just stare at each other. 

Rosco spits at him in disgust. The blood spraying from his mouth and splattering across his pretty face. The man barley even twitches away. He smiles in triumph as he watches the thick almost black looking liquid slide down the mans flawless skin. A look of disgust crosses his face, before he turns on his heel, wiping a hand down his stubble cheeks. 

He manages to wipe most of the blood off, but some still remains smeared prettily across his face. 

He keeps his cocky grin plastered to his face as he watches him pace across the room. He still hasn't learned the name of the tall man, but he is determined to find out.

Moments pass, then finally the man whirls around. A glare still plastered across his face as he walks back over to Rosco. He stops only a foot away from where he sit, his eyes intent as they stare at him unwavering. 

Rosco simply tilts his head, and waits. 

HIs voice is tight and low when he finally does speak. 

"Was what you said earlier true?" 

Rosco purses his lips, excitement fluttering through his stomach at the question. 

He thinks through the million responses he could come back with, then finally settles on one. 

"Did it sound like a lie to you?" He asks, his lips tilting up slightly. 

He speaks again before the man can respond. His pretty pink mouth snapping shut with a click. 

"You really think I would make up lies, when I know that the truth hurts much more?" he grins. His face turns to stone, he looks like he's about to either puke or explode. 

Fox eyes comes closer, using his height to his advantage, as he practically looms over Rosco. He keeps his smug expression even as he breaks into a nervous sweat. 

What Rosco doesn't expect is a another hit to the face. 

……

 

She wipes down the glistening bar once more, her eyes traveling through the people in the bar on instinct. She can barely make out Dean in the crowd. His form small in the very back of the dark room. He managed to pick the most difficult spot to sit, considering how she is supposed to be on babysitting duty. Castiel long gone since he came in here all smite and blood. She should have told him to take care of his boy toy himself. But she didn't. Because when Castiel looked at her so desperately, so brokenly, she just couldn't refuse. Sure she doesn't know Dean, but she has heard enough from Castiel that she has this kind of soft spot for him. Now that she's supposed to be watching out for him though, she has no idea how. Last time she came in contact with Dean, he acted as though he had been shocked. And she's not sure she knows how to deal. 

She let's out a long sigh, and drops her eyes from Dean. She wipes the bar once more, before a man gestures for her from the far end of the bar. She takes her time walking over to him. Once she stops in front of him, he smiles tapping his empty glass. She re fills the drink, then moves to the other side of the bar to take another order. Meg briefly glances up at Dean, his still curled form unmoving. She frowns, before making some small talk with a regular while she mixes her a drink. The woman thanks her and makes her way back over to a table near the dance floor. 

"Excuse me!" Comes a high pitched male voice. Meg glances up from her place, setting the bottles back where they belong. Wiping her hands on a washcloth, she stops in front of a man. She raises a brow but otherwise says nothing. "Give me.." He trails off, clearly thinking way too hard about this. 

"Something strong." he finishes after several seconds of silence. He flashes her a nervous smile, tapping his fingers against the bar. She places both of her hands on the bar in front of her, and leans in. "I don't serve minors." She smiles, shrugging. 

He scoffs, his mouth moving soundlessly. 

"I'm not-" He starts, she cuts him off with a sharp wave of her hand. "Sure you are, Justin Bieber. How about a coke?" She says, lifting herself back up into a standing position. He slumps down in his chair, resting his head on his hand. He seems to think on it for a moment, giving up rather quickly and responding. 

"Coke sounds good." He replies quietly. She smiles walking away and filling a glass, before returning back and placing it down in front of the kid. He gives her a small nod, and takes a sip of his drink. 

Meg turns back to the bar with a smile, only to be met by Conner. The guy is sneaky she'll give him that. He stares off in the distance, his hands frozen in place. 

"Conner." She says coming forward. He blinks, glancing over at her, then placing the bottle of whiskey back on the shelf. He comes back over to stand next to her, his eyes still off in the distance. 

She's about to ask what's wrong, just as he speaks. 

"Is that Castiel's boyfriend?" He questions, a frown on his face as he points through the crowd at Dean. Meg sighs, she should have expected this from him. The man has had a crush on Cas since he started here. It's all the guy talks about. 

"Yes." She replies, a smile in her voice. Conner shakes his head, his frown deepening. 

"What's his name?" he asks, still staring off in the distance. 

"Now why would you need to know that?" She teases, leaning against the bar. 

"I'm just curious." he pauses, turning his eyes towards her. "Just curious as to who the mystery man that stole Castiel's heart away is." He finishes in a growl. 

Meg chuckles. And Conner glares at her, turning his head back to the bar. 

"Dean. His name is Dean." She answers. 

Conner clenches his jaw. "Dean… Who? What's his last name?" He asks all in one breath. 

"Jesus." She laughs. Shaking her head. 

"What?" He snaps. 

"Your jealousy is showing." She jokes, earning her another glare. She takes the washcloth from his other hand, twisting it into the sink. 

"He could do so much better." He whispers, almost quiet enough for her to miss. She drops the rag with a sigh. "Oh really?" She jokes, her voice tight. Conner rolls his eyes, tapping his fingers. She thinks that's it, until Conner speaks again. 

"I mean, he's not even that cute." He growls, folding his arms across his chest. "And!" He cuts her off. "judging from how wrecked Castiel looked, he's not even that great of a boyfriend." 

Meg's chest bursts into a abrupt laugh. "what-" She's cut off again as Conner glares at Dean. 

"I bet he's not even that good in bed." 

"Or kissing." He adds, pursing his lips. 

"Oh my god, Conner. How would you know any of that?" She laughs, glancing at Dean. 

"I have a gift." he says, tilting his head up. "Just like how I could tell that Castiel would be great in bed." 

"Him." He points out to Dean. "Would not." He sneers. 

Meg smiles again, coming closer to Conner. "I bet Dean's great in bed." She whispers. 

"His pretty full lips." She eggs on. Conner scoffs. 

"Those bow legs." She whispers. 

"Or how about those freckles." She uses more breath than needed. 

"freckles have nothing to do with how good he is at sex." He points out, turning a glare on meg. 

"No." she confirms. "But they sure are pretty." she teases. 

Conner smacks her arm, taking a step back from her. She laughs, stumbling back from him. 

"whatever." He says. Folding his arms again. 

"whatever." She mocks. "Get over your crush." She adds, picking up the washcloth once more. 

Conner flips her off, and she laughs. 

She wipes down the bar once more, and fills a man's drink with a smile. 

"Let's just see how great he is then." Conner growls. Meg looks up just in time to see him striding over to where Dean sits. 

"Shit." She whispers, throwing the cloth down, and setting the bottle of scotch down. Just as she starts to walk, her arm is tugged back. She turns back, with one last glance towards Conner coming closer to Dean's table. And comes face to face with Castiel. 

Meg jumps back from his hold. 

His eyes go wide, and he raises his hands up. "Sorry." He says, his voice grim and eyes tired as he looks down at her. He raises a brow, turning back towards the bar. 

"What are you doing?" she asks, walking with him and blocking his view of Dean. He tilts his head, raising two glasses up in front of her. "Needed some glasses for the whiskey." He explains, his voice more of a wreck than earlier. "Oh!" she laughs, pushing him towards the doors. 

He gives her a strange look, pushing past her once more. He takes some ice cubes and places them in both cups, shooting her looks. She tries to act normal as she shoots a look over her shoulder. Just as Conner stops in front of Dean's table. She smiles when Castiel looks at her again. 

"How's Dean?" he asks, coming forward.

……

 

Nails dig into his spine, and hips as his body rocks forcefully forward. The headboard smacking into the wall, as he stuffs his face even further into Alastair's thigh. He smells of sweat and blood, his thigh slick with Dean's tears. Alastair grips Dean's wrists in one hand, holding them against his chest. His other hand wrapped around the back of Dean's neck, his nails drawing blood from his skin. Beards hand covers most of his hip, while the other scratch down his spine, red marks covering the majority of his skin. 

His moans pour from his mouth as he pulls Dean back onto him. While Alastair's laughs drip around him like poison. He breathes in through his mouth, his chest tight with panic. He claws at Al's chest as his face is pushed further into his leg. Beard doesn’t let up, his thrusts getting more violent as time wares on. Dean attempts to push himself away with his legs, kicking the blankets even further from the bed as he screams. The man pulls Dean back, and Alastair pushes him, keeps him put. 

Another hand comes from nowhere, grasping his shoulder tightly. And then suddenly his world twists, and he's back in the hospital. The blankets ripped from the bed, papers strewn across the floor. He's aware now of his heart monitor screeching, his legs stiff, his back bowed off of the bed. As he keeps contact with cold gray eyes from across the room. Pain ripping through his body as he watches Castiel shove the gun in Alastair's face. 

He shouts, and those much needed gray eyes snap back to Cas. Dean reaches for him, tears blurring his vision, as he pleads and prays for the hurt to stop. He tries to talk, but suddenly he can't breath, tiny breathes the only thing keeping him from blackness. 

Al Shoves the gun from his face, tries to wrestle it away from Cas. And suddenly Dean doesn't know who he's routing for, only that he wants this to stop. It doesn't. 

Castiel raises the gun, and pulls the trigger. 

Blood sprays the walls, as pain rips through Dean's chest. He screams. With everything he has left. Until he can't breath. He watches Al's body fall limp to the ground. As Castiel stands rigid. 

 

….

 

"Dean's fine." she answers, faking a smile. Castiel narrows his eyes down at her, his stare intense as he studies her. She tries not to waver under his stare, keeping a small smile on her lips. Finally, after what feels like forever he looks away. "Where is he?" He asks, attempting to see around her. She gives a nervous laugh, covering his view. "Exaclty where you left him." She answers, stepping in front of him once again. 

Castiel raises a brow, and Meg jumps to add. "He's sleeping." She says with a fake smile. His expression still holds suspicion as his electric blue eyes search her face. Meg gives a nervous laugh, scrambling to distract him. Castiel tilts his head but otherwise says nothing. He pushes forward, past Meg, his eyes scanning the room. 

Meg's stomach flips and she whirls him back around by his stiff shoulder. Castiel's eyes wide she says. "what's your plan for Rosco?" 

His expression changes as quick as a light switch, he seems to darken dangerously. She holds her ground, fingers tightening against her thigh. 

"I don’t know." He answers simply, his jaw tight as he snaps his mouth shut. The muscle in his jaw ticks, his eyes looking less tired with fury lit blue shining through. Meg knows it's not directed towards her, that Castiel is off somewhere else in his head. But she can't help but tense, deciding to tread lightly. She softens her stance, pulling Castiel back with a hand on his shoulder. 

He blinks down at her, the anger in his eyes fading ever so slightly as he searches her face. "I should-" He starts, cutting himself off as his eyes drift above the blondes messy hair. 

Shit. 

Just like a light switch Castiel's stance turns to furious in a matter of seconds. His eyes narrowing in on his target. Realization hits Meg like a rock, Castiel has spotted Dean, not just him but Conner too. Her arm flies out in his direction, but he's already too far for her to reach. The fabric of his shirt slipping from her nervous fingers as Castiel walks around the bar with purpose, the glasses he had for drinks forgotten on the edge of the bar before her. 

 

…..

 

The first thing Conner thinks as he approaches Dean's form in the back of the dim room, is that he's small. Abnormally small, his weight no where near normal compared to his long legs (Bow legs, hmm…they are kind of sexy? No, back on track.) His face is slim, cheekbones that could cut steal, a strong jaw underneath pale skin. His hair is recently cut, crisp and clean only a few pieces out of place, unlike Castiel's his dark unruly sex god hair, he could just run his fingers…Stop day dreaming. What's it to him if Dean's hair is perfect. His is so much better, his blonde brighter, and all natural, Dean's is probably fake. 

He smiles to himself, his hips swaying as he raises his head up high. Dean stands no chance against him. Not one.

Second thing he notices is the dark circles under sunken eyes, dark thick eyelashes shadowing the freckles that barely show there anymore. There isn't any color in Dean's cheeks, it makes him look sickly. All the more luck for Conner, he thinks. 

His eyes flick down to his lips….okay, so maybe Meg was right about his lips. They are plush and pink, shiny with spit as if he had been licking them constantly. But they also were nothing compared to Castiel's lips….

Day dreaming again. He snaps himself out of it, nearing the table Dean lay at. He briefly wonders why he's sleeping, but quickly shakes it off. But then Dean's brows come down, and he wiggles in his seat, as if he's in pain. And that leads Conner to wonder what Dean is dreaming about? 

He hums to himself, weaving through a few more people. As he gets closer Dean's features get clearer. If it were even possible he gets even better looking. Damn it.

Conner lets his eyes travel, from Dean's head that lay across one arm atop the table. To the hand balled up against his jeans beneath the table, his knuckles white with how hard he grips. He almost lets his eyes travel back up Dean's face, but stops dead in his tracks as he sees the angry, definitely finger shaped bruises around Dean's small wrist. His eyes widen, and he takes another quick step towards Dean, Could Castiel have done that to Dean? He takes another step, only to be yanked back by a strong hand on his bicep. He's spinned around so quick that he almost loses his balance. 

 

Conner's eyes go wide as he comes face to face with Castiel, the last man he wanted to see right now. 

 

…..  
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Water from the shower washes away my tears, erasing any evidence of my heartache. I slide to the floor, sinking lower than the tears, now being carried away in the pipes, below the ground. A part of me is going to a better place, out in the ocean and free…


	50. Chapter 50

Conner tugs his arm back, glaring up at Castiel for ruining his mission. He rubs a hand over his aching shoulder, opening his mouth to snap at the man. Castiel easily glares right back, taking a hold of Conner's arm again before he can speak. He tightens his grip painfully, pulling Conner along behind him as he pushes through the crowd. He can hear the man protesting behind him. Tugging back against Castiel's strength. He does his best to ignore him, this conversation can wait until they get somewhere private. 

Conner digs his heels into the floor, stumbling forward as Castiel trudges on. He scoffs, attempting to pry his long fingers from his bicep. No luck. The guy is strong, he'll give him that. Castiel tightens his grip, practically shoving Conner through the large metal door. He stumbles, blinking as his eyes adjust to the night sky. They must be out back, next to the parking lot. He brings his gaze back to Castiel, his gaze just as icy as before. 

A shiver runs through him as his body registers the cold air. He speaks up before Castiel can say anything. 

"What the hell?" he snaps, throwing his arms up. The man simply tilts his head, an eyebrow raised, his eyes lowered to Conner in an intense stare. Conner shifts under his stare, anger and fear wrestling with each other as he starts to pace back and forth. 

Did Castiel do that to Dean? Was he really that kind of person. How could Conner have not seen it before? The bruises were definitely new…And judging by how Strong Castiel was, he could have easily caused them. 

Oh shit. And now he is alone, in the dark, with a physco path. Awesome. 

"I should be asking you the same?" Castiel growls, taking a step forward. 

Conner jumps back, his hand flying up in a stopping gesture. Castiel glares, folding his arms over his chest. 

"I was working! Until you came out of no where and forced me outside!" He yells, his gut twisting in fear when Castiel's face drops even further. "My arm is probably bruised by the way!" He adds, rubbing a hand over the tender spot on his bicep. 

"Your lying." Castiel states simply. 

Conner fumes. "Was not." He replies, raising his nose in defiance. 

Castiel takes another step forward, his face stony. 

Conner screeches in fear, earning him a surprised look from blue eyes. "Stop! Stay right where you are physco!" 

Castiel stops in his tracks, his eyes wide. 

"Physco?" He repeats, furrowing his brows. Conner nods his head quickly. 

"I saw the bruises!" he accuses, his breath coming out in large puffs of smoke. Now Castiel looks even more confused. Great, play dumb. 

"Yeah that's right!" he adds as Castiel stands stock still staring at him. "How could you!" He yells, turning on his heel. "I thought you were better than that!" He paces back the other way, waving his hands frantically as he speaks. 

"man, just when I thought I found the perfect one." He adds quietly. 

He turns to face Castiel again, looking straight into his eyes. Those blue eyes seem to finally know what Conner is rambling about. Before Castiel can say anything he cuts him off, his voice filled with more rage than before. 

"Why!?" he asks, his hands flying out by his sides. "Why would you-" He cuts himself off with a growl, running a hand down his face. 

"Castiel.." He whispers, peeking through his fingers back up at the man. His expression is a mix of fear and anger as he steps towards Conner. 

"Conner." He growls, waiting for the man to look up at him. 

After a few moments he does, slowly. Castiel lets him take a minute to himself just staring. 

"Are you speaking of Dean?" He asks, his eyes softer at just the mention of the other man. 

Conner blinks, Angry at how well of an actor Castiel is. But he can't fool him. 

"Yes! Of course I am. Who else would I be speaking of?" He mocks. "You can see those bruises from a mile away!" He shouts, grabbing a fist full of his hair. 

There's a gush of air, so fast that Conner doesn't react as he is slammed against the side of the building. A hand covers his mouth.

This is it. He thinks. This is where I die, In the arms of my crush behind a run down bar. 

He let's out a scream, into Castiel's palm, clawing at his shirt as he struggles. Castiel's words go unnoticed in Conner's struggle. 

"Keep your voice down. I'm not going to hurt you." He says for the third time, his chest aching where Conner clawed at him. 

The man stills in his grip, his struggles abandoned as he opens his eyes to look at Castiel. He pulls Castiel's hand from his mouth. 

"What?" He blurts, his face far too close to Castiel's. 

His eyes are so blue….

"I said keep your voice down, I don't want someone to hear you. And I am not going to hurt you, nor did I harm Dean in any way." he says, his breath washing over Conner's face. 

"You didn't?" He asks. I don't believe you, he thinks, narrowing his eyes. 

Castiel is finally close to him, the way he wanted him to be for so long. But wrong circumstances….Damn it. He flicks his eyes to Castiel's lips, briefly, daydreaming what it would be like. He bets he's a god….

Wait. Pull yourself out of your head.

Conner looks up to meet confused and slightly furious eyes staring down on him. He scrambles, did he say anything? What's he looking at me like that for? Hurry, make something up! 

He clears his throat, pushing out most of his dirty thoughts from his mind. 

"No, I did not." Castiel answers, again. Clenching his jaw, he moves away from the flustered man in front of him. Conner has a second to look sad, then he quickly straightens his posture. 

"Okay.." he replies skeptically, eyeing Castiel still. 

"You Don't believe me." he states. 

Of course he doesn't! how else would you explain Dean's bruises. And to think he was about to harass the man…oh god, he's a monster! 

Conner simply shakes his head, no. He wants to cower back, and lash out all at the same time, but he holds his ground glaring back into blue eyes. 

Castiel inhales deeply, scratching at his rough jaw. 

"Look." he says, making eye contact once again. "I don't have time to explain this to you. Neither do I have the right to. This is Dean's business. If you really are all that curious you may ask him, although I strongly suggest you don't." He glares particularly hard as the last part leaves his mouth. "I have some very important things to get back to." He adds, tucking his hands in his slacks. "All I ask of you is to trust me when I say that I have never laid a hand on Dean, nor would I. And to please keep your opinions to yourself." 

Conner opens his mouth to protest, just as Castiel raises a hand to silence him. 

"I know you have been…" he trails off. "Interested in me, for a while now." 

Conner takes a step back. Was he that obvious? Well..Maybe kissing him randomly may have been a hint. 

"And I ask you to let it go. Dean does not deserve to be tortured anymore with a jealous co worker." He snaps, his voice cold and eyes hard. with that Castiel turns on his heel, the large metal door snapping shut behind him. 

Conner growls, his fists clenched and his temperature rising. He storms inside, moments later, and makes his way back to work. A frightened and curious Meg tending the bar, while Dean lay asleep in his booth. 

…..

 

Rosco's head spins, blood dripping from his mouth as his head lolls against his chest. The gooey red soaks into his shirt, drying to his skin. He watches fox eyes shoes with half lidded eyes. He waits for him to come closer, take another hit. But he never does, the bastard waits until Rosco has the strength to tilt his head back up his brown eyes still furious even if he's exhausted. He glares back into the golden eyes, something so familiar about the man that stand in front of him. He doesn't have time to think on it though, because before he knows it the man loses patience and takes another swing. Snapping his aching head to the side, more blood filling his mouth, and spilling down his chin. 

He spits the copper taste out of his mouth, licking his lips. His eyes come back to meet the furious one's in front of him. Ever so slowly he smiles, dried blood cracking, and pain shooting through his jaw. He has a moment to gasp in a big gulp of air, before the man has a large hand around his throat. Now with no air supply, he continues to smile, even if weakened as his lungs scream for air. Those golden eyes come closer, now on fire with fury as he sneers in Rosco's face. 

His smile fades ever so slowly, as his head pounds, and chest works, his blood screaming with pain. Dark spots start to cover his vision. He has a moment to decide whether he is going to let himself go or talk the man into letting him go. He decides rather quickly. 

He moves his mouth soundlessly at first, until fox eyes sees that he is trying to speak and loosens his grip across his neck. 

"Okay." He squeaks. The man's eyes widen, and he let's his hand slip further. 

He narrows his eyes down at Rosco, staying silent. 

"Okay?" The man shoots back, his voice tight with rage, as he grips Rosco's neck tighter. 

He rushes to explain. "Okay, I will answer your questions." He says. 

Sam loosens his hold around Rosco's neck, taking a step back. 

"But." Rosco adds, a smile tinging his lips. Sam growls, but stays quiet as he keeps his eyes on the burly man in front of him. 

"You have to answer mine as well." He adds. 

Sam thinks on it, for a moment. It seems fair. And if it's the only way he is going to get answers then so be it. 

He growls, but otherwise nods. "Fair enough." He answers, folding his arms across his chest. Rosco smiles, nodding back. 

"What do you want to know?" Sam asks. 

 

Rosco licks his slick lips raising his brows. "Woah, tiger, slow down. I haven't even learned your name. It's only fair you tell me, since you know mine." He smiles. 

Sam tightens his fists where they rest against his sides. "Then ask." He replies. 

Rosco scoffs. "That's not how it works, sweetheart. You tell me then we can get to business. I will not let you trick me into wasting my first question, since it is merely a question, it's more like an introduction before we get down to it." He hardens his stare towards Sam. 

The man is silent, for a worryingly long time. Most likely calculating Rosco's reply, and thinking of a way he can argue. His eyes stay locked on the floor, his brows furrowed as he thinks. 

"Don't mean to interrupt. But if it helps any, one way or another I am going to find out. So you might as well tell me yourself. And please, don't make up a fake name, I will find out." He growls near the end, pulling Sam from his thoughts. 

He rolls his eyes, his fists now numb as he clutches them tightly closed. 

"It's Sam." He finally answers, still glaring down at Rosco. 

He smiles. "Good. Sam." He pauses. "Now what's your last name? Sam?" He urges, cocky as he sits up higher in his seat. Even though the movement stings a little, he refuses to back down now. He knows exactly what Sam's last name is, how could he not? Rosco isn't as dumb as he looks. He holds power over Samuel's head. The boy has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Rosco knew that he recognized the boy. He's a Winchester for god sakes, so easy to pick out of a crowd. 

Sam's jaw twitches as he grits his teeth. "Winchester." he answers, tapping his foot restlessly.

Rosco nods, barely containing his smile. "A Winchester? Dean's brother?" He acts surprised. 

"Yes." Sam grits out. The tall man pulls over a chair, sitting in front of Rosco with his hands clenched in his lap.

"Okay, Sam. First question." He pauses thinking through how he will go about this. 

"How old is your brother?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He wants to build the tension.

Sam shoots him a strange look, but answers clearly enough. "Twenty five." 

"Which would make you, twenty one?" He says. 

Sam stiffens. "Yeah.." 

"How-" Rosco cuts him off with a laugh. 

"Dean is quite the chatter box when it comes to you." He smiles with a wink. 

Sam is quiet for a while, his eyes drifting to the floor again. When his gaze finally comes back it's incredibly serious. 

"How do you know Dean?" He asks. Rosco licks the blood from his teeth. 

"Alastair introduced us, of course." He says, his voice a tone lower than before. Sam goes rigid again, closing his eyes momentarily. 

"Your turn." He says, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

"How did your mother die?" 

Sam's gaze flicks up to him so fast, that Rosco barely catches the fear there before it turns to anger.

"Fire." is all he says. 

Rosco scoffs. "No details?" he asks sweetly. 

Sam ignores him, asking his question. "Why were you following my brother?" 

"Boring." Rosco yawns under his breath. "Will my answer make you feel any better?" he says. 

"No." He growls. "But I want to know, why you were at the hospital, why you were at Gabriels apartment the morning Dean almost dead. And why you followed him here." 

So maybe the kid was smarter than he thought. "How do you know that?" He asks.

"Video cameras. You should really clean up after yourself, your sloppy." Sam smiles coldly down at the bloody man. 

Rosco smiles, shrugging. "Who knows, maybe I left them there for a reason." He cuts off Sam's protest. "Dean belonged to Alastair, yet the slut went out to find blue eyes. He needed to be warned. Don’t think your as smart as you think you are kid. This? What you are digging into, is so very much bigger than you or me. I thought your dad would have taught you better than this." 

"I was Dean's…Insurance. Make sure he didn't go off doing stupid shit. Alastair could only do so much, but I was the constant surveillance. Granted Dean doesn't know this. He doesn't know that I saw what happened between he and Castiel in the bar bathroom one evening, enter a perfect timed Alastair after a tip from yours truly. He made a show, all the while knowing about the blue eyed man hiding in a stall." He smiles. 

"I know about Dean's early morning hike with his so called boyfriend, the carvings in the tree at the top of the hill. Which-" He pauses chuckling. "Is now a stump, orders from the boss." 

"I kept nurses from his room, as Alastair filled Dean with poison. I have seen him fall in love with Castiel. Seen him stumble as he bleeds, cry alone silently. I was there the day your father took an envelope filled with cash in an alleyway. I was there to ensure Dean found Alastair the night he left your father. I watched Alastair take him, along with other faces."

"I've stared into terrified green eyes beneath me as I made your brother beg." Rosco smiles, licking his lips. "But best of all, Sam.." He leans towards the wide eyed boy, his hands twisting in their binds. "I have watched the color, the hope, the happiness drain from his once golden face. His stubbornness turning into submissive. His body turning into just skin and bones. His eyes sinking, and the color fading. I Saw everything, and I stood by as Alastair took it all." He finishes off with a laugh, leaning back into his chair. 

Sam stares in shock, his mouth open as unshed tears glisten in his eyes. He speaks so softly that Rosco almost misses it. "Your lying." He states, his fingernails drawing blood from his palms. Rosco purses his lips, shaking his head. 

"No, I'm not, you wanted the truth and that's what I gave you." 

Sam's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. He stands so fast that his chair flies across the small space, clattering to the ground with a loud bang. His breath comes faster, his height seeming taller as he looms over Rosco. 

"You. Are. Lying." He claims, his chest rising rapidly. 

"Do you want me to lie?" He replies lightening quick, raising his brow. 

Sam clenches his fists, his knuckles white as he stares down at Rosco. He stares back, without a single shred of fear in his eyes. 

"No." He simply says, pacing back over to the whiskey bottle. His back turned to Rosco ,he unscrews the lid, taking a large gulp of the golden liquid. 

"Where is your father in all this?" Rosco asks, tilting his head to try and get a glimpse on Sam's face. The man's broad shoulders stiffen, his hair flipping as he whirls around. 

His eyes are cold as he replies. "He's dead." 

A large smile spreads across Rosco's face, as he stares back into Sam's eyes. 

"No he's not."

….  
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TBC

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You hide behind the mask that is your own skin your eyes are the only portal that reveals the demons within


	51. Chapter 51

October 7, 2012

"Let's get you somewhere warm. Your soaking wet." The calm voice breathes into his ear. Dean nods numbly, clutching tighter to the warm body. Arms wrap around his torso, bare arms draping a dry jacket over his shivering body. He stumbles as he's lifted into standing, his legs refusing to hold his weight. The arms keep him up though, tightly wrapped around his waist. He shivers again as his cold shirt clings to his skin. 

"Alright just take it slow, my cars not far from here." The mans voice whispers into his ear again. He starts to pull Dean beside him, something like a smile reaching his lips in the dark. Of course Dean doesn’t notice it though, his eyes locked on his feet as he concentrates on moving one foot at a time. He clings to the taller man next to him as they take a turn through the trees, veering from the path. He trips over his own feet as the lights from the road and motel disappear beneath the trees. He almost just killed himself. He had the gun to his head. He was going to do it. Why didn't he?

Dean huffs in frustration, slipping on the slick mud and covering his boots with it. The man chuckles beside him, and Dean shoots him a quick glare. "Almost there." the man says in that slithery voice of his, completely ignoring Dean's annoyance. He takes a few more steps, and then the man pulls him to a stop. Dean looks up in confusion, only to realize that they made it to his car. The man keeps his hold on Dean as he reaches for the passenger door handle. 

"I got it." Dean snaps, earning him a surprised glance. And for the first time Dean sees the man's face clearly. He's not bad looking, definitely kind of has a stalker look to him, but so does everyone really. Plus this guy was generous enough to offer him his help. When he could have just as easily left Dean to pull the trigger. He gives the man a weak smile. "Thank you though..for.." He trails off, his eyes wondering. The man chuckles, lifting Dean's eyes to him again. 

"Of course." He drawls, fingers twitching where they rest on Dean's side. He stares at Dean a moment longer, before letting him go and moving to his side of the car. Dean manages to keep himself upright as the support vanishes. Then fumbles with the slick handle for a moment before yanking the door open and plopping himself inside. It smells like leather, it smells expensive and new. He feels kind of bad for sitting there all wet and muddy, but the man doesn't seem to mind as he takes his own seat and turns on the car. 

The heater is still warm as it blasts in his face. He sighs, closing his eyes and relaxing back into the seat. Alastair stares at Dean's profile for a moment, admiring his clingy wet clothes. Until green eyes snap open, looking over to him. Dean doesn't say anything as Alastair flicks his gaze back to his car and shifts it into gear. The engine purrs beneath him, and he lets his body relax once again. 

So the guy stared a lot, that’s not something to be worried about, Dean thinks. 

The guy even has heated seats, he notices leaning his fore head against the cool window. He cant see much, but trees and the occasional street light. He briefly wonders where he is, and hell, why he let a stranger take him home. Shit…Dean looks back over to the man. Only his profile can be seen at this angle. 

What if he's some physco killer? Or he thinks Dean is putting out for him…Ha. He can totally knock this guy on his ass if he needs to. Right? 

He's skinny, but he definitely has height to his advantage. Other than that he doesn't looks to be too strong. He can take him if he needs to, no doubt about it. 

Okay maybe a little doubt, but that's only because the guy is as big as Sammy. 

"You are thinking too much." Dean jumps as the man speaks, realizing that he is still staring at him. He quickly adverts his eyes, picking at a drying spot of mud on his pants. 

The man sighs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. 

"I'm Alastair." He says a minute later, when he realizes that Dean isn't going to speak. Dean doesn't plan on answering him, he just hums folding his arms over his chest. Alastair's eyes drift over to Dean, his eyebrow raised in question. 

What? Now he's supposed to make small talk with the man!? It's not like he saved his life or….oh wait, yes he did. 

Damn it. 

"Weird name." He replies, chewing on his lip. The man doesn't reply, he's quiet for a whole two minutes before he speaks again. 

"What were you doing wondering the woods alone?" He asks, his voice just a bit louder than before. Dean let's out a long breath. 

"It's pretty damn clear what I was doing in the woods." He snaps, glaring at his reflection in the window. 

"Why?" He pushes his voice just as pissed as Dean's. 

He clenches his jaw, tapping his muddy foot. "None of your business." 

"Okay." 

Dean straightens, glancing back over to Alastair in confusion. The man ignores him, completely relaxed as he drives. What the fuck?  
A couple more minutes pass, more trees blurring by, rain still lightly drizzling outside. 

"Who's Sam?" He asks, Dean flips his head around. His eyes are wide as he stares at Alastair. And Alastair just stares back, an eyebrow raised. 

"How-" He starts, Alastair cuts him off. 

"You were mumbling his name earlier." He replies, like this is normal. 

"He's-" He pauses. "No one. It's not important." 

"It ought to be important, if that was the name you kept saying while holding a gun to your head." Alastair replies, voice calm as he turns his eyes back to the road. 

"What the fu-" Alastair turns a glare on Dean. "Language." He cuts him off with a wave of his hand. 

Dean glares back but the man has already turned back to the road. "What the heck man! You can't just-" 

He's cut off again as Alastair speaks over him. "Alright, calm down. I apologize, I was just curious. There's no need to freak out." His gaze is soft as he looks over to Dean again.

"You freaked me out!" He snaps. Scooting further towards the door. 

"I said that I am Sorry. Okay? Let's iust start over."

Dean scoffs. 

"What's your name?" He asks. 

"Dean." He replies, still staring at Alastair. 

"Dean." He says, rolling it around on his tongue. "well, it's nice to meet you. I just wish it were under different circumstances." 

The hell is that supposed to mean? He thinks, rolling his eyes and slouching back down into his seat. 

"You too." He replies, eyes watching the trees outside once again. 

Alastair doesn't speak again. The car stays silent, while Dean watches trees and then eventually houses pass outside. 

After what he believes to be about an hour later the car slows, then comes to a stop. Dean straightens in his seat, peering out the foggy window. The neighborhood looks a little sketchy, but nicer than some of the places Dean has lived in, so he guesses it's not too bad. The houses are all older styles, not one car from this century parked along the crowded street. There are trees lining the tree, overgrown and hiding some of the other houses on the small block. He turns forward in his seat, he follows the gravel driveway up to a moderate sized house. Cream colored paint, grey shutters hanging off at weird angles. There are no lights on so the guy must live alone. 

He doesn't know if that's a good thing or not. 

The house looks..okay. It's no dream home, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the shack his dad has holed them up in. Alastair gets out of the car and begins to walk up the driveway. He only stops halfway when he realizes that Dean isn't following. His eyebrow arches and he starts to turn back around. Dean reaches for the door handle blindly, his eyes still locked on the sad house. 

He wrenches open the door. How come this man can have such a nice car but his house looks like this? 

Dean slides out into the cold air, it's stopped raining by now. But the wind is ice cold as it rustles the trees. He hugs himself shivering as he remembers his drenched clothes. He keeps his eyes down as he follows the driveway. He doesn't want to see the pity in Alastair's face. Hell, he's not even sure why he came home with the guy. But it's not like he can go home…John told him to stay gone. He has no where to go, no money for a warm bed, or food. He feels his eyes burn, and his throat tighten. 

He stops as Alastair's black dress shoes come into view, the toes of his shoes caked in mud. 

"Let's get inside, your shivering." it comes as a whisper close to his ear, but he chooses to ignore how close this stranger is. Alastair pats his arm, his shoes disappearing from sight. His shoes crunch as he follows him into the house. 

Once inside he sees that the inside is…bare. There are no pictures, no personal touches. Like he bought the house pre furnished, and never added his own things to it. The place is cleaned from top to bottom, there is no smell other than a hint of cleaner. But, it is warm. Which Dean is thankful for. He relaxes slightly, even though his damp clothes are extremely uncomfortable. Alastair locks the door behind them.

"The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right. Go take a shower, get warmed up. I will leave clean dry clothes on the bed across the hall." Alastair says, staring at Dean with an unreadable expression. Dean nods, and turns towards the hall. Before he can take a step Alastair speaks again. 

"Your safe here." 

Dean turns to respond, but the man is gone. He stands there for a moment before shrugging and making his way to the shower.

 

…

**Present Day**

 

"What do you mean he's not dead?" Sam growls, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Amused brown eyes look up at him. 

"What am I not making clear. John Winchester is not dead." His lips twitch up into a small smile. "Actually." He pauses. "I spoke with him before Alastair's death." Sam takes a step back, leaning back onto the door. Rosco's expression darkens at the mention of Alastair. 

So if John is alive, why did he fake his own death? Or was it even him that faked it? Did someone convince him too? Sam's lips tighten, why the hell hasn't he tried to find him or Dean. That bastard even had contact with his sons torturers and did nothing, absolutely nothing! He can't believe how selfish his father is. 

Rosco's laughter brings him back from his thoughts. 

"What?" Sam snaps, straightening where he stands. 

Rosco inhales a shaky breath, controlling his laughter. "Johnny boy probably still thinks Dean is with Alastair. Hell, last thing we told him was that Dean was happy, working at the garage, going to school. That man is so gullible." 

Sam's face falls into something much softer. "He Didn't…Doesn't know about Dean?" He asks, his voice softer as he says it. That means John isn't a monster? But he has to be, he sold Dean off like cattle. There is no way he can be anything but a monster. 

From the sounds of it though, he checked in, asked about Dean. He cared about him even after he was gone. But they lied to him, they told him Dean was happy when he was no where near it. It's not hard to believe, Dean fooled him just the same as he fooled their father. He convinced Sam that he was happy, that Alastair was everything he wanted. Sure he sounded off…But he just figured it was because they didn't talk much. 

"Why would he know about him. We didn't want a mess on our hands. John can be a handful sometimes, no way we were going to have the elder Winchester after our blood." Rosco's brow pinches together briefly. He looks up to Sam quizzically. 

"Did you think he sold off his first born just for some quick cash? We worked and persuaded that old man for almost a year before he broke. But only when Alastair promised him that his son would have a better home." He chuckles at that, and Sam's eyes go hard again.

"Alastair caught sight of the green eyed beauty one night out at the bar, he never let it go after that. Bastard was so stubborn about getting what he wanted. Like a kid at a candy store. He had his mind set. Honestly I was surprised that he actually got what he wanted. He was ruthless." He scoffed. The blood has started to dry on his face, no longer dripping from his mouth and nose. 

Sam briefly wonders what they are going to do with him when they are done here. He turns running a hand over his face. What the hell are they going to do with Dean? Or the information that John is in fact not dead. Even Castiel looks like he is losing his mind. Do they tell Dean everything he just learned? He doesn't think it would help any. 

Now that he thinks of it he doesn’t even know where Dean is. If he's okay…alright he probably wasn't ok, but Castiel took care of him right? His mind is running in circles. It's starting to get late, and he can hear the rowdy people filling the bar to it's brim. They need to work on helping Dean. Not talking to scum that helped torture his brother. Something he is sure could get them in lots of trouble if caught. If it weren't for Meg they would have been caught already. 

Sam lifts his head when he hear the door swinging open. For a brief moment he panics, but then he sees those furious blue eyes and messy mop of black hair. Castiel looks worse than when he left the room. 

"Cas.." he starts, swallowing as those eyes snap to him. "I think we are done here." He says, lowering his voice. 

Castiel glances back over to Rosco before he nods. "We will talk later." He says to Sam, his eyes locking onto the bleeding tied man. Rosco glares back defiantly, clearly not noticing or caring about the look of fury radiating off of Castiel. 

In the blink of an eye Castiel is across the room, looming over the burly man with piercing blue eyes. His hand wrapped around his throat, denying any and all oxygen. 

"I will only warn you once."

"You leave this place quietly, you leave town, you leave the state and you never step foot here again." 

Rosco's face starts to turn red as he twists his bound wrists. 

"You Never. Ever. Come back. And you will never get within 1oo feet of Dean. I can promise you that I will rip you to shreds if you do. There will be no contacting Dean, and you will keep Alastair's whore out of his life as well." 

He's gasping now, no air coming in or out of his lungs. 

Castiel leans in closer his breath running over bloody skin. "And if I can't find you, if you break any of my rules, I know where your family lives. I am not afraid to take everything from you the same way you did Dean."

His brown eyes are wide with terror, bulging out of his head as Castiel gives one last hard squeeze.

Then he lets him go. Rosco gasps and coughs, struggling to catch his breath as Castiel pulls out a knife. His brown eyes widen in terror as they catch on the glinting blade. Castiel ignores the look given completely leaning down and cutting the ropes from his ankles and wrists quick and efficient. Rosco stays in place even as his bindings fall to the ground. 

"Go!" Castiel roars. 

The large man scrambles to his feet, still gasping as he stumbles as quick as he can over to the door. Sam watches as his large hands slip on the door handle, once, twice, then finally he rips the door open with a grunt. Rosco doesn't even glance back as he half stumbles half runs out the door. Then disappears completely into the dark hallway of the bar. 

They are left alone, the only sound is their heavy breathing. Sam looks up to Castiel, and is met with large sad eyes. Castiel sags, his breath shaky as tears spring to his eyes. Sam takes a hesitant step forward, shocked at the turn of emotions. 

"Cas.." He whispers, his own eyes sad. 

Castiel takes in a shaky breath, wiping his eyes in frustration. He's quiet for what seems like forever, then finally he speaks. 

"I Don’t know what to do, Sam." It comes out soft, almost a whisper. A sob escapes his shaking body, as he covers his face with his hands. His knuckles bleeding and spilt, another man's blood splattered across them. Sam takes the last steps forward. He eyes him warily as he slowly steps closer. He sees it happen before he even realizes it, his arms fly out catching Castiel by his waist just as his legs give out from underneath him. Sam lowers him slowly over to the chair Rosco was just tied to and helps him sit down. He slumps down his eyes focused off somewhere else, as he clenches his fists atop his thighs. 

His own heart hurts. For Cas, for Dean. 

He kneels next to him, and looks up to Castiel. 

"We will figure it out." He answers, his voice just as broken. 

……

 

Meg knows the minute Castiel steps back out into the main area. Conner's eyes are wide and angry as he stands stock still in front of here, the tray she's handing him ignored completely. She huffs frustrated, ever since he came back inside after going with Castiel he has been as moody as ever, like a rebellious teen. She sets the tray full of glasses down on the bar and turns towards the doors she assumes Castiel just walked through. 

Her eyes go wide as she takes in his appearance. His hair is even more of mess than usual, his eyes dark and void of any and all emotion, dark bags lying underneath. His shirt is untucked, and unbuttoned slightly, little red splatters of dried blood on the rolled up sleeves. Which leads her eyes to his split bruised knuckles, still clenched in fists where they hang by his sides. His jaw bulges where he clenches his teeth fiercely. His eyes searching the room with an intense gaze. 

His eyes finally land on them, no change in his expression as he walks over to them. Conner shifts beside her, his arms crossed over his chest, as his eyes rake over Castiel. He pays him no attention as he stops in front of Meg. 

"Meg-" He cuts off, swallowing, his eyes somewhat softening. Conner rolls his eyes, mumbling under his breath as he spins on his heel and stomps away, leaving the tray of drinks behind. Castiel briefly bristles, glancing in Conner's retreating direction. 

His attention is pulled back over to her. "Thank-" 

She waves him off, a small smile to her lips. "Don’t mention it Clarence. Just…Just get home get some rest." Castiel gives her a grateful smile. She gives him a concerned look as he turns away, but quickly shakes it off. 

"And enjoy having Dean home!" She calls after him. He throws a smile over his shoulder, chuckling to himself. 

He finds Dean in the same exact spot that he left him. He's managed to curl himself into the corner of the booth, his knees to his chest and his arms covering his face. He breathes steady so Castiel assumes he is still sleeping. Castiel scoots into the booth, as close to Dean as he thinks is comfortable. Dean doesn't move a muscle as Castiel takes his arms away from his face. 

His face is slack, peaceful looking for once. He looks younger like this, all of his worries forgotten, the lines of fear smoothed into beautiful skin. Dean manages to look years older than he really is when he's awake. Castiel feels a brief spike of guilt. He can't give Dean what he needs, he knows he will never look the way he does when he's sleeping. Dean won't ever be this relaxed, not after what happened. And he feels guilt for that. He feels unworthy of such a beautiful person. Dean deserves the world. And Castiel can't give it to him. 

 

Dean's brow furrows as Castiel rubs the cold skin of his arm. He keeps his touch light, so he doesn’t frighten him. Slowly, ever so slowly green eyes blink sleepily up at him, still hazy from sleep from where his head rests on his knees. Castiel takes his hand back, giving Dean a forced smile. His chin wobbles and his eyes burn, but he pushes that feeling away quickly. He needs to be strong for Dean now. 

"Cas?" He croaks, wincing as he realizes just how soar his throat is. Dean slowly lifts his head from his knees, stretching his legs out under the table. His neck is stiff, and his knees pop as he stretches out. A yawn makes it's way out. Then he places his gaze back onto Cas. He can’t quite read the look on his face. 

"Let's get you home." Castiel says, sliding out of the booth. Dean hesitates for a moment, before following Castiel. 

Cas extends a hand out for him as he stands. Dean is briefly confused, looking down at Castiel's bloodied knuckles. But then realizes just what Cas is asking for. Dean places his hand in Cas's, a warm feeling filling his chest as he raises his eyes back to Castiel's. 

Home. Dean is finally going home. He smiles, following Castiel outside and into the car waiting around back. 

 

….  
.  
.  
.  
..  
.  
.  
.

Silence is the most powerful scream.


	52. Chapter 52

With a bang, the remote smashes into the cheap drywall across from him. Managing to cast the tv into darkness as the power is turned off. The pieces of the remote scatter across the floor of a stained, old carpet. A hole is left in it's wake. A string of curses flying from his mouth as he stands. The room spins, and he fights to keep his feet under him. The need to vomit rises, but he pushes it down. In the back of his mind he knows this is a bad idea, but his heart and soul are screaming at him, begging him to make this right. He rubs a hand over his face, realizing that he hasn't shaved in more than two weeks. Various bottles of liquor litter the floor, old dishes over flow the sink, garbage pushes out the top of the trash can. 

He grabs his jacket from the small cheap wooden chair, his keys jingling as he swipes them from the table. The room, and the mess are left behind as the door slams behind him. His eyes travel to the full moon in the sky, such a beautiful night. He wishes it were under different circumstances that his head was as clear as ever and he had purpose. He wishes that he could enjoy such a beautiful night.

God help him, he prays, and he hopes that he's okay. Please let him be okay. 

The drivers side door squeaks at him as he tugs it open, the dust covering the car floating up with his movement. He plops down into it without hesitation, and starts the engine. She still purrs like a beaut, the same rumble underneath him as the very last time he decided that he was going to drive this car. 

He gives no more thought, as he remembers just why he was leaving in such a hurry. Panic races through him once again. And tires squeal as rock fills the speakers, the car skidding out onto the open road once more. 

Please, please, please. He chants in his head, Hoping someone is listening up there. He will not survive the latter, if he's not okay…if he's-

Stop. It is going to be alright, John thinks, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he races down the highway. To a town he has left behind, thought he left behind forever. 

 

…..

 

Sunlight washes over freckled skin, peeking in through the parted dark curtains. It shines across his peaceful face, His eyes moving ever so slightly under his eye lids. Large plush blankets wrapped around him protectively, not so accidently hoarded on one side more than the other. Dust particles dance In the air above them, sunlight glowing through his newly trimmed hair. The color is lighter as it looks as if on fire in the sun, radiating a blonde color with brown undertones. His mouth parts slightly as he breathes in new air, Something Castiel thought he would never see again. Something that was almost taken from him, one to many times than he would like to think about. 

Castiel rubs his thumb over his pale hand, a bumped scar somehow softer than his skin. Dean's brow twitches, but he otherwise stays dead to the world. He continues to run his thumb over Dean's hand, his eyes never leaving his gorgeous face. 

It feels so good to have Dean home, in his bed. And to think that it might not have even been possible not too long ago. He almost lost Dean, he did lose Dean. A couple of times actually, whether it be emotionally or physically. He did lose him, he slipped from his grip multiple times without Castiel knowing fully how to grab him again before he fell. He knows that his grip is slipping now, even as the war is won and over. He knows that Dean will drop again, and it will be even harder to pull his broken pieces together so he can pick Dean up again. 

He knows he's broken, he knows he has been for some time. Ever since Dean came into his life, but he was willing to give it up. He knew what he was getting himself into, and it shattered both him and Dean. The thing is, Castiel would do it all again. Over and over. For Dean. Always. 

He tightens his hold on his hand, brushing soft hair from the face of an angel. His eyes burn with unshed tears, but he refuses to let them fall. It's over they won, there is no need for him to cry. 

The only thing is, he thinks they might be tears of joy. He is so thankful to have Dean here beside him his chest rising with even breaths. He still rattles and struggles with his breath, but nothing like before. Castiel made sure to contact Dean's new doctor. Extra precaution never hurts. He asked if Dean would be able to heal on his own, any thing that would make his pain and breathing better.

He was worried about the poison. He has no idea what kind It was, what it did to the human body. For all he knows it was still attacking Dean's body, shutting him down. Or even destroying him from the inside out. His worst fear is waking up to a still cold body. Or the pale cold look Dean had as he held him in his arms. His chest still as ever, skin cold, eyes open and lifeless. He couldn't do that again. 

So he called the doctor. 

The man said that the poison is working it's way out of his body. They wont know for sure if it has damaged anything until he is clean of the chemical. There wasn't much to help him either. But good news was that Dean didn't need to go back to the hospital. Castiel could see how much he hated the place, how much it stressed him. 

The doctor said that if Dean does start to notice anything too irregular, that he needs to be brought in. If that does happen, the poison might be at work still. And in that case Dean could die if not attended too. 

Castiel doesn't remember closing his eyes, but the next thing he knows he's opening them to bright green ones. There's worry, and love there as he stares back. His face still calm with sleep, as he gives Cas's hand a squeeze. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as Castiel returns the favor. Dean takes a deeper breath in….yawning as he stretches out his legs. 

 

And then it's gone.

 

The moment leaves before Castiel can catch it and hold it in his arms. Because Dean's brow furrows, and his jaw tightens. His eyes seeming to stare past Castiel now as he thinks quietly. He waits him out, not wanting to interrupt anything.

Dean was all too tired last night to really realize just what happened yesterday. He stumbled in behind Castiel, along with Sam trailing behind them, and collapsed into Cas' bed with a pair of sweats and a worn t shirt. Next thing he knew, Dean was snoring softly into his chest as dreams pulled him under. 

Castiel keeps his hold on Dean's hand, as worry laces his blood. 

"How much?" Dean croaks, sometime later. Castiel glances up from there intertwining fingers, his brow furrowing. Dean still looks off into the distance, a deeper look premating his eyes. 

"What?" he asks, confusion bringing his eyes into a squint. Dean clears his throat, his other hand twisting a loose thread on the blanket, his eyes now fixed on that. 

The sun has risin higher into the sky since Dean awoke. Light no longer framing him, but darkness cradling him. 

"How much did he sell me for?" he whispers, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. 

Castiel sighs, sadness once again showing it's face. He wants to answer, he wants to tell Dean everything, but would that fix anything? Really? 

"I-I don't know." He answers honestly, still trying to catch Dean's gaze.

"I'm sure it was quite a bit." He adds, flinching a little as vibrant red rimmed eyes flicker to him. "What makes you say that?" Dean asks, his lips pressed into a tight line as he stares at Castiel now. 

"I am just assuming. As I'm sure your-um…I am sure he wouldn't sell for anything less for what he thinks you are worth. He loved you." Castiel mentally slaps himself. Really? That’s the answer he's going to give Dean. 

Dean's eyes darken slightly, as he flicks them back down to the thread. 

"Yeah..Right." He scoffs, his chin wobbling ever so slightly. 

Castiel rubs his thumb over Dean's knuckles again. 

"Dean." He starts, scooting himself closer. 

Dean shakes his head, glancing back up to Cas with sad eyes. He stops his movements, but doesn't move back to were he was before.

"It's okay. Really." He whispers, almost too quiet for him to hear. "I know he didn't love me. That he needed the money or whatever. I just wish I knew why? I mean, sure maybe he didn’t know Al-" he cuts off abruptly, his eyes losing more of their focus as a lone tear escapes. It runs down the freckles Castiel was counting only just an hour ago, then soaks into the pillow beneath him. 

Castiel stays silent as Dean's chin wobbles again. He let's out a long breath, before speaking again. 

"I miss him, Cas." Is all Dean says. His voice quiet, laced with shame. And Castiel knows immediately who he is talking about. His jaw ticks, as he tries to process this. His blood wants to burn, he can feel the anger clawing underneath his skin. But he fights to keep it down, that is the last thing Dean needs right now. He knows that this is something Dean has been hiding for a while. Can hear how much it hurts him to even admit it. But damnit Cas thought that he was over Alastair. He thought he was over him the night they moved Dean out. Hell, maybe even the night he came into the bar with a black eye. And he wants so very badly to lash out, to shake some sense into Dean. 

He must have been quiet for too long, because Dean looks worried. He scoots himself closer to Cas, his breath wheezy as he presses himself as close as he feels comfortable. " Cas?" he whispers, guilt still present in his voice. Castiel takes a deep breath, but the anger, the fury, the pure hate and betrayal is still there. It grows inside of him without consent, and he wants so badly to understand. But he doesn't. He just fucking doesn't.

"Cas..please. i-" Dean struggles to explain, stumbling over his words. It's because he can't explain though, he has no excuses no reasons that will convince Castiel that this is harmless. It is not in any way harmless. Dean is destroying himself just as much as Alastair did. He adds fuel to an already raging fire. 

"what's wrong with you?" Castiel snaps, his body tense everywhere. He can feel his nails dig into his palm as he glares down at Dean. 

Dean shrinks back slightly. "N-nothing. Nothing is wrong with me." He whispers. Castiel would feel bad, but he's seeing red now. The same monster that came out the night he blew metal into that monsters face, blood painting the walls.

"Then why, Dean?" he asks, his voice a little louder than he wanted it to be. It's clipped and short, anger dripping from every word. Dean curls away from him, his eyes guarded and vulnerable all at once as he stares up into cold blue eyes. They flicker briefly, gray shading the blue. Familiar feelings as he pulls his hand from Cas' crushing grip. He sees Alastair in him at that moment. And It terrifies him. 

"I-" he begins to answer, his voice small. Castiel explodes over him, sitting up sharply next to him on the bed. 

"No!" He yells, like a little kid refusing to listen to their parents. 

Dean panics, he's already lost so much, he can't lose Cas too. 

"Please, Cas, just let me explain." He tries to stay calm, but he can hear the familiar buzz of adrenaline pumping through his ears. A cold sweat across his entire body, and a tremor in his voice, as he looks up to Alas- no. Cas, through his eyelashes. He begs with his eyes. 

"There is nothing to explain!" He yells, looming over Dean. "There is nothing you can possibly say to explain this!" 

Yes there is. Dean thinks. His breath picking up, he opens his mouth to speak. And for a brief second he thinks that Cas might hit him. 

But his hand just clenches in the blankets as he cuts Dean off before he has a chance to speak. "Why Dean!? Why would you think it was anything but wrong. To miss that monster. You can’t possibly be serious. You remember what he did to you!? You remember the hell you had to live through, that I had to live through!" He's screaming now. But no one is going to hear them, unless the neighbors call the cops. Because Sam and Gabriel went shopping this morning, and won't be back for a while. 

Dean shakes where he lays, too afraid to speak or move. Castiel never raises his voice. 

"Do you!?" he asks again, startling Dean from his stupor. 

Tears slip from his eyes as he shakes his head furiously, hugging his arms to his chest. "Yes! Yes! I remember!" he shouts back his voice shaking, and his breath becoming faster and more clipped as he begins to sob in earnest. 

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, over and over again. His heart in his throat. He knows it's wrong, he knows. He tries to push the feeling away, he tries to forget about it. Because he knows it's wrong. But the good memories just comes racing back, and he can't stop it. He can't he has tried. No matter how much he tries he always fails. 

Dean closes his eyes. And waits for the hits to fall. He waits for more shattering words. That's all he's good for anymore. That is all his dad had him for, Alastair, Rosco, Ephraim, and now Cas. 

Just as abruptly as the anger hatched inside of him, it dissipates into nothing, as he watches Dean crumble beneath his words. Castiel gasps in, the most horrible feeling coming over him as he realizes that he did this. He made Dean feel like this, not just Alastair. He pushed, way too damn hard and way too fast. 

Holy shit! 

Castiel reaches out to Dean, bending down and wrapping his arms around his shivering body. Dean continues to apologize for something that is no where near his fault. He tucks his head into Dean's chest, his own tears soaking his soft shirt. 

"It's okay." He whispers back, a sob escaping his body. "It's okay. It's okay." He continues, guilt coming over him in powerful waves. And it hurts. 

"I'm sorry, so sorry, Dean. Please. I didn't mean it. I shouldn't have exploded like that. Please. Baby, stop apologizing, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. I reacted poorly. Shh. Please stop crying. Just breath." He keeps his voice soft, continuing to whisper into Dean's chest.

Dean gasps and shakes beneath him, struggling to breath as he cries. 

"It's okay." He says again. Rubbing circles into his back, as his tears start to slow all of his attention focused onto Dean. 

"I love you." he starts to repeat. Over and over until his throat hurts. Until Dean's breath slows, his tears stop, and then eventually he drops off into sleep, Castiel following him close behind.


	53. Chapter 53

He dreams, of leather, black, smooth, and shiny. Expanding on forever and ever, as he stares on. It smells of gun oil, with a hint of grease and cologne. Soft beneath his fingers, as he runs his hand across the seat beside him. He exhales with a sigh, a small smile gracing his lips. His fingers dip into the stitched seams as he reaches as far across as his belt will let him. Sunlight sprays in, and he lets his hands glide through the warmth in delight. Soft music reaches his ears, faintly familiar. He doesn't know from where but it calms him. He melts back into the plush seat, mouthing along with some of the words. 

Laughter fills the space soon after, overruling the soft tones of music. Dean's lips lift up into a smile, just as chubby fingers wrap around his thumb. They are covered in slobber, and hold on tight to him as he wiggles his hand around. Another round of giggles surround him. He looks over to the dark grey car seat. His eyes traveling down from the tiny fist, and up to the babies hazel eyes. 

He smiles down at Sammy. The baby smiling up at him in delight as he sticks his tongue out at him. He's all gums and chubby cheeks as he breaks out into another round of laughter. 

Dean looks up from where he realizes is the backseat of the Impala, a smile still on his lips as Sam pulls at his hand. Only to see blonde hair blowing back from the front seat, as the wind races through the open window. His mother's eyes are bright in the sun, as she looks over her shoulder to her sons. She smiles, the way she always used to, big and genuine when she catches Dean staring at her. He thinks he smiles back, but can't tell for sure as he keeps staring at her. Mary hums along to the soft music in the background, and flips back around in her seat. Her eyes still visible in the rear view mirror as she continues to hum and smile to herself. 

He looks over to what he knows to be his father in the driver seat. His hair is darker than he remembers it to be, not a trace of grey to be found. Dean can see that his dad is wearing the leather jacket he handed down to Dean, his wedding ring on his left hand as he grips the steering wheel. John looks over to Mary, a smile tilting his lips. His eyes are darker than Mom's, but somehow brighter than he remembers. A deep chocolate brown as he glances back at his boys in the backseat. The wrinkles around his eyes as he smiles, his face clean shaven so that his cheeks slightly dimple in. His thumb tracing the steering wheel as the sun shines over his ring. Dean can’t see, but he knows that his father's hand is interlocked with Mary's, something that they always did on long car rides. 

Dean looks out the window, recognizing trees spread as far as he can see. The cold breeze on his face, and the smell of summer in the air. He knows they are close to Dean's hideout place, to the place they always used to drive to on the weekends. He looks up at the clear blue sky, and sighs, gripping his little brothers hand tighter. 

Which is now bigger, tightly locked onto Dean's own hand. His brows furrow and he looks back into the car again. Large sized drops of rain pounding on the window outside. He looks down at his little brother, who now looks to be about twelve. His hazel eyes large as he looks up to Dean like a lost puppy. Dean glances back over to the window his stomach tightening. It's dark, with large grey clouds covering the sky as lightning lights it up, and thunder rumbles like the engine of the car beneath them.

"Dean?" Sam whispers beside him. He looks back over to his brother, concern racing through him. Sam looks up at him under his lashes, tears brimming his eyes. He looks over Dean's face worriedly, his hand tightening again. 

"Where are we going?" He whispers, glancing forward nervously. Dean swallows, blinking and shaking his head. He looks up to the front seat, where now only his father occupies. His hair longer, and grey, still wet from the rain outside. His eyes are now visible in the rearview mirror, as he flicks his gaze back to them nervously. They are dull, and red rimmed, his face unshaven and dirty as he frowns back at Dean. Johns thumb traces the steering wheel, his wedding ring barely visible in the dark. 

He closes his eyes to the memory playing in front of him. 

And then blinks them open again. 

He's still in Castiel's bed, the sun now at it's highest in the sky as he looks over to the window he is facing. Groaning, he rubs his eyes, still dry from crying, again. He shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he pushes out what happened with Castiel as the memory tries to tackle him to the ground. Dean's chest still aches, but when does it not? And he's got one hell of a headache, from trying to work through all of the shit he learned in the last few days. 

Dean shivers, realizing just how cold it is. He must have kicked the blankets off or something, because they are nowhere to be found as he looks down at himself. He immediately stops looking though, as his stomach rolls in disgust. He hadn't realized just how much weight he had lost, nor how pale he had become. No wonder Castiel can barely look at him, he can barely look at himself without wanting to vomit. 

He sighs, rolling onto his back, and reaching his hand over to Castiel's side of the bed. Which is not surprisingly cold, and long empty. Dean ignores the voices whispering to him, the rejection clawing at him. He closes his eyes again, taking a couple deep breath's in, and then out again. Once he pushes those voices back into a gnawing whisper, he opens his eyes again. 

He wonders where Cas could have gone? 

Did he leave? Is he going to come back? Is he still mad at Dean? 

He shakes his head, groaning again as his head pounds. 

He sits up, deciding that he is going to look for Cas, and then take some medicine. He pushes himself up, his body still tense and sore as bruises heal. It’s hard for him to breath as he sits at the edge of the bed. And he wonders if maybe he should just lay back down again. 

But he's been through worse, and he really needs to find Cas. He needs to apologize, he can't screw this up to. 

So he pushes through the pain, and stands on unsteady feet. Deciding first that he needs to change out of his clothes. There is blood splattered down the front, and it smells of Rosco and the stale smell of the hospital. He unconsciously rubs a thumb over his shredded wrist, which is now bandaged. Cas must have done that while he was asleep. 

He steadies himself and walks over to their closet. He picks an old soft t shirt, and then some sweatpants he finds in Castiel's drawer, and changes into them. Dean decides that he is going to look for Cas first, before he takes a shower, before he eats, even before medicine. Because even though he feels calm right now, doesn't mean it will last if he did actually manage to screw things up. Even just the thought terrifies him. This is the one thing he needs, the one thing he had hopes for. 

But then he had to go and say something stupid, like 'I miss him'. 

He opens the door to their? Castiel's? bedroom. His heart beating in his ears, as he peaks out into the hallway. It's dim, even considering the sunlight. He listens for any sign of Castiel, or anyone at all. 

It's silent. 

He gulps in a breath, his chest rattling. He pushes the panic away, just because he can't hear him, doesn't mean he's not here somewhere. Dean waits to catch his breath, until he realizes that he's not going to. So he continues on, walking down the hallway. 

He slows past Gabriel's room, his door slightly ajar. Dean gives It a push to reveal an empty room. He sighs, walking further down the hallway. His chest rattles again as he steps into the kitchen , which is much brighter as the sun shines through the large window. 

Dean is immediately disappointed as he sees that the room is empty. Which only leaves the living room. 

'you screwed up' 

'he's gone'

'they are gone'

He shakes his head, turning towards the living room.

"Cas?"

He calls out quietly as he rounds the corner. His fingers pressed into his palms, where the cuts still heal. And his arms wrapped around his stomach, where his ribs and chest ache with every rattling breath.

His eyes search the empty room. 

Empty is the only thing he registers. He pulls in another difficult breath, digging his nails into the scabs lining his hands. He has to be missing something, maybe Castiel just went for some fresh air. Maybe he went to get something to eat. Maybe…Maybe Dean just didn't see him. Maybe he is here? 

He wouldn't leave.

'yes he would, because it's you.' 

He shakes his head, there has to be an explanation. Castiel can leave. He does that, just like anyone else. He doesn't need to babysit him constantly. Just because Cas wasn't there when he woke, does not mean he left him. 

He's coming back. 

'Is he?'

 

 

…………………..

 

 

"I can carry more than two bags." Sam huffs, closing the green car door behind him. Gabriel winks at him, huffing as he lifts the bags on his arms higher. "Sure you can big boy." he shoots back, locking his car with his elbow. He bumps the door closed with his hip, throwing a smile at Sam before making his way to the apartment building. Sam rolls his eyes, and follows Gabriel into their building. 

He sways his hips in front of Sam, whistling as he goes. The women at the front desk giving him a once over, before rolling her eyes and going back to typing on her phone. Sam watches as Gabriel presses the elevator button with his elbow. 

"Are you sure you don't want help?" He asks, smirking as Gabe hefts the bags up again. He looks back at Sam, squinting his eyes much like Castiel does. "No." He says, flipping back around as the elevator dings and the doors open up. Again he presses the button with his elbow before Sam can get to it. He shakes his head, leaning back against one of the walls. 

"We bought a lot of junk food. Are you sure you can even make a meal out of any of this?" Sam asks, as he eyes Gabriel. The shorter man huffs. "You sound like my brother. Of course I can. And what's wrong with a little sweetness." He winks again. Sam huffs. "Nothing. But I would like to eat real food. You can't live on sweets, Gabriel." 

"Psh! Yes you can, just look at me, living and breathing candy eating machine. Plus your brother deserves a little treat, Sam. He's been through a lot." He says matter of fact, eyeing Sam as the doors ding again and open up. He steps out, and saunters down the hall, Sam following behind. 

"Last thing Dean needs is diabetes." He shoots back, just as Gabe stops in front of their door, and fishes in his pocket for his keys. He wiggles his hips, digging around in his front pocket while the bags he has stacked on his arms slip just a little further. Surprisingly after a minute Gabriel has his house keys in his hands, and a shit eating grin on his face. 

Sam rolls his eyes, waving his hand, urging Gabe to hurry. Before his bags fall, or rip, something he really does not want to deal with. He gives Sam an eye roll of his own, shoving the key into the door. 

Sam waits patiently as Gabriel tries to heft the bags up, and open the door with keys in hand. He grunts a little, biting his lip as he finally manages to figure it out. He shoots another smile back at Sam. And kicks the door open, striding inside. Sam huffs, following Gabriel inside, his eyes on the floor. 

He shuts the door behind him, and looks up as he realizes Gabe has stopped walking. His brows furrow, and he peers around the shorter man. 

"Dean?" 

He takes a step forward, setting the bags down on the couch. 

Dean stares at him with a furrow between his brow, like he doesn't know what Sam is doing here. His brother visibly shakes where he stands. Even from where Sam stands in the living room, he can see the fine tremors running through his brothers body. 

"Um, Sam?" Gabriel whispers back to him, taking a step forward and putting his bags down as well. Sam looks over to Gabriel in question. The shorter man half runs, half walks over to Dean his hands held up where he can see them. Sam follows suit, watching as Gabriel takes his brothers hands and pries his them open where they were white knuckled. 

Blood spills from his palms, running down his wrists and dripping onto the floor. Sam's eyes widen, and he kneels in front of his brother, taking his hands from Gabriel. 

"Oh my god, Dean. Your bleeding." He says, as he cradles Dean's hands in his. He looks up at his brother, concerned. Dean's eyes are far away as he looks down at Sam, but not really seeing him. Sam turns his attention to a wide eyed Gabriel.

"Get the first aid kit." he says, his voice soft but firm. Gabe nods, his eyes still on Dean's bleeding palms. He scurries away down to the bathroom. 

Sam stands up, guiding Dean over to the couch and sitting him down. His brother goes easily, shuffling his feet across the carpet. He sits rigid on the couch, as Sam takes a seat on the coffee table across from Dean. He holds his hands between his own, blood pooling in his palms. While green eyes look off past his shoulder, hazy and dull. 

He sighs, assessing the damage. They aren't deep, but they are bleeding a lot for such a small wound. Scabs and flesh hang off of his palms, and underneath his fingernails. 

"Gabriel?" 

"I'm here. Sorry." He says, setting the tin box next to him on the coffee table. "s'okay." He mumbles, setting Dean's hands down on his thighs gently as he digs through the box. Gabriel stares at Dean with an unreadable look on his face. Sam finds the bandages he needs and sets them aside as he picks his brother's hands back up and starts to clean up the blood. 

"Where's Castiel?" He asks, dabbing at the blood. Sam glances over at Gabriel raising a brow. 

"I don't know. He wasn't in his room. It's not like him to just leave Dean here all alone." Gabriel says as he watches Sam wrap Dean's hand. 

"Try calling him." is all he says. If Castiel did something to Dean…Sam will kill him. Out of all the people, he should be the one to protect Dean the most. He has no reason to just run off! 

"Okay." He answers, backing away. "I'm-I'm going to put the grocery's away while I am at it." and then he's gone, cupboards shutting, and plastic bags rustling. 

Where is Castiel?

….  
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Suicide doesn't end the pain. It just passes it on to someone else.


	54. Chapter 54

It's cold, he should have brought a jacket. Even though the weather is starting to warm up a bit, the wind is still freezing as it comes in large waves through downtown. Soon it will be summer, winter dwindling away into spring. The days becoming longer and brighter. It feels as if he had missed winter all together. He could have sworn it hadn't been that long, that the sky should still be dark, the ground powdered with white. He could have sworn that he hadn't been fighting for that long. That Dean wasn't in the hospital all that time. It had passed in one large blur, and before Castiel knew it, the snow was gone, and the sun was shining. 

He wishes he would have been in his right mind at the time he would have snagged his jacket on the way out the door. Hell, he's lucky he managed to shove his feet into his shoes before storming out the door. Well…Not exactly storming. Castiel wasn't mad, nor is he now. He was just…

If he would have handled things differently, then he wouldn't be walking through downtown aimlessly, in a thin t shirt, while his lips turn purple and his teeth chatter. 

He felt terrible for the way he reacted. Castiel just remembers hearing those words. 'I miss him', and then all there was, was red hot anger, everywhere. Castiel has had that same nagging thought since he learned about the green eyed man. That small chance… more like nightmare, that Dean still loved, and missed the monster. Every day Castiel had that thought in the back of his mind, and he denied it every time it rose to the surface. 

Because Dean couldn't love someone that caused him pain. He couldn't miss him. Not possible. Castiel saved him from that. He would never have to go back, he would be safe, he would be loved…

He would miss Alastair. 

He longs to be back in his own personal hell. Castiel and safety be damned. 

Castiel glowers, shoving his numb hands into his pockets. He tries to understand it, put himself in Dean's shoes, he really does. But he can't.

None of what he knows of Dean explains this attachment he has to his past. To this man, that beat him, took his life away and ripped it to shreds. 

How could he not explode, when his biggest fear was laid out in front of him. Just when he thought it was over, that they were past this. 

Castiel sighs, his shoulders slumping as he turns down another street. How is he going to explain this to his brother, to Sam? They wont understand. And more importantly how will he apologize to Dean? It'll be a miracle if he forgives Castiel for what he's done. 

Granted Castiel knew, he still knows, that it's going to be hard. This healing process will be hard. He just never thought that it would be this hard. That Dean would lye with him, look up to him with large green eyes, and say that he misses Alastair. 

How can he even handle that? 

He sighs, circling the block for the third time. His apartment building coming into view. 

 

…..

 

Sam dabs gently at the blood on Dean's palm with a damp cloth, the fabric quickly turning from grey to black and red. Not so subtly glancing up at Dean every few seconds, where his gaze gets lost somewhere over Sam's shoulder. Sam has smile lines by his eyes, and mouth, his hair messy where it's tucked behind his ears. The hazel and green in his eyes soft and worried as he glances up again. So different from the man in front of him. Where as he looks like he hasn't smiled in years, his hair darker with a fresh haircut. The green of his eyes hazed, dark circles hanging beneath them, almost lifeless with how dull they have become. Sam frowns, and starts to clean the blood from under Dean's fingernails. His brother curling his fingers away slightly, his frown deepening. 

Gabriel's voice is muffled in the other room, as he talks to someone on the phone. A cupboard opening, and then closing again. Sam grabs the bandages he has laid out on the table next to him. All the while racking his brain for something to say to Dean. Even though he doesn't think Dean would hear him. 

He wonders what happened while he and Gabriel where out. He knows Dean goes into panics over just anything now, but he's never been this far away before. Well, not since Alastair's death anyway. Castiel has been making sure of that, hanging around his brother like he should be attached to his side. He always has a watchful eye out, pulling Dean back from the edge when he get's to close. 

Sam can’t help but blame Castiel for this unexpected event. Even though he doesn't know the exact details, he feels as though Castiel should be here. And the only reason he's not is because this episode Dean is having, is his fault. 

Castiel has been the only one that can pull Dean from this zombie state. And now that he's not here, Sam has no idea how to deal with him. He doesn’t know how to help, how to pull Dean from his head again. He wishes he knew where that blue eyed bastard was, so he could talk some sense into him. It's not like Castiel to just up and leave like this. 

"Dean?" He whispers, glancing up again as he positions himself closer to Dean and begins to bandage his bleeding hand. His brother doesn’t move, his chest rattling as he breaths out. Sam sighs as he finishes with the bandage, leaning back but not letting go of his brothers hand. He watches him for a moment, lost as to what he's supposed to do next. 

"Sam." Gabriel says from the kitchen, pulling Sam from his head for a moment. He lifts his head just as the shorter man comes walking out to the living room. He waves his cell around as he comes into view. "Just talked to Meg on the phone." he says. 

Sam raises a brow, his mind racing. Please, please, let him know where Castiel is. "And?" He urges, blinking. 

"She hasn't seen him either." He says, shrugging and shaking his head. His golden eyes flickering over to Dean. He frowns. "Is he okay?" he asks tilting his head. Gabriel looks over his brother in worry, with just a hint of guilt underneath. 

Sam glances back over to Dean, just the same as he was before. 

"I don't know." He answers, his brow furrowing. He looks back to Gabriel as he bites his lip, rubbing his sweating palms on his jeans. 

"I haven't got the first clue as to what else to do. Other than get him to lay down for a while, try and get him out of zombie mode." He rambles shaking his head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear when it falls into his face. 

Gabriel nods, scratching absently at the back of his head. "Well.." he trials off awkwardly, nodding his head toward the kitchen. 

"I'm gonna finish with the groceries." He finishes after a moment, his eyes flicking back to Dean again. 

"K" Sam says distractedly, closing his eyes briefly. Gabriel nods turning back towards the kitchen, seconds later cupboards are opening. 

He sighs, letting go of Dean's hand and standing. He gathers all of the first aid back into the small tin container, and the bloodied washcloth, setting them off to the side on the edge of the coffee table. He stretches out his back, groaning as his starts to make his way over to Castiel's room. He's only a little surprised when he sees the door wide open. Usually Castiel's door is always closed, he likes his privacy, and he is obviously oddly possessive over Dean. The room looks just the same as always, the bed a little messier than usual, but normal. Sam shakes his head, he shouldn't expect it to be wrecked. As if Castiel would become violent like that, because he knows that Castiel is not a hot head. He stops his train of thought and grabs a smaller blanket from the bed. Dean Is still in the same place when he comes back into the living room. 

Sam walks over to him, glancing at his brothers hand as his fingers twitch. "Let's get you laid down, Okay?" He says, his voice softer and quieter than he expected. He gently puts a hand on Dean's shoulder, when he doesn’t flinch away he slowly begins to guide his brother down onto the couch. Until he's fully on his side. He blinks slowly, as Sam lifts his legs onto the other side of the couch. Then drapes the blanket over his body. 

He briefly wonders if he should turn the tv on, but decides against it and turns back towards one of the chairs. He takes a seat next to the couch, and scans the room with his eyes. 

 

….

 

Not even ten minutes later Sam stands from the chair he's sitting on and wonders over to one of the bookshelves on the other side of the room. He runs his fingers over the spines, some dusty and some well used and clean. He knows almost all of them belong to Castiel, all except for the cook books which obviously belong to Gabriel. There are at least fifty books on the large wooden shelves. Every single one of them in alphabetical order, another thing Castiel has a habit of doing to things. 

Sam sighs, glancing back at Dean on the couch. His brother's eyes droop tiredly. A yawn escaping his lips as he stares off somewhere else. He looks less zombie like. But is still unresponsive as Sam continues to stare at him. 

He spins back around, briefly wondering where Gabriel has disappeared to. The rustling of bags, and cupboards gone quiet a couple of minutes ago. 

He grabs a book from the shelve, one he has never read before but looks well worn and loved. Turning it around in his hands a couple of times he decides he will read for a while. Not wanting to leave Dean alone, he settles himself back down into the recliner chair next to the couch. 

He flips the book open and begins to read, a door closing down the hallway of the apartment. 

…

 

Sam's eyes slowly flutter open. The fog of sleep hanging heavily around him as he blinks against the brightness of the lights. The first thing he registers is the kink in his neck, from the uncomfortable position he fell asleep in. He then realizes that he must of fallen asleep in the recliner while reading. He clenches his right hand around the book in his grip. The next thing he becomes aware of is the sound of a door being opened. The front door to be exact. 

Sam straightens himself up, glancing over to the doorway to the kitchen. Almost expecting to know if Gabriel is still here. He doesn't hear anything. 

He turns back around, glancing over to the couch beside him. Dean still lay there, finally asleep. 

He wonders how long he slept, the sun still peeking in through the windows. He guesses not too long.

He closes the book in his grip, and leans forward placing it on the coffee table next to the first aid. Then leans back and folds his arms over his chest. He squints at the door as it slowly creaks open. Sam already knows who it is, even before a PJ dressed man stumbles inside, hair astray and shaking limbs. 

Sam is on him before he even finishes closing the door. Raised to his full height and looming over a shivering Castiel, his eyes hard and accusing as he effectively traps the smaller man between him and the door. 

Castiel matches his stare, his eyes wild and lips blue as he presses them together in a tight line. 

"Sam-" he starts, his voice low. 

"where have you been?" Sam says, throwing his arms up, effectively cutting Castiel off. His jaw shuts with a click, his jaw ticking as he glares up at Sam. 

"Not now." is all he says, the answer riddled with warning. He pushes past him, completely ignoring Sam's sputtering as he follows after him. 

"Then when?" He clips out watching Castiel stop next to Dean. His eyes are kind as he looks down at his brother, his hands still shaking from the cold as he runs his hand through Dean's dirty blonde hair. Dean is completely still, unaware. 

"How is he?" Castiel says suddenly, just as Sam opens his mouth to say something he probably would regret. His brows furrow, anger still lacing itself through his blood. 

"Why would you care?" he snaps, glaring. 

Castiel whirls back around, his eyes hard again. 

"Sam-" 

"He's better. No thanks to you." He answers, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

Castiel actually looks guilty at that, his glare leaving his face. 

"I'm sorry." he mumbles, just as a racket of noise reaches them. 

They both look towards the kitchen just as Gabriel comes barreling out. 

"Cassie!? Where have you been, I was worried." He shouts, both He and Castiel shushing him as he grabs Cas by the shoulders and looks him over worriedly. His eyebrows shoot up as he looks back behind him where Dean sleeps. When he turns back around He has a look of guilt on his features. 

Which of course quickly dissipates, as he smiles at Castiel slightly. 

"I'm fine Gabriel." Castiel answers shrugging his hands off, and walking towards the kitchen. Gabriel skipping in fron of him, and Sam glancing back at his brother before following too. 

"Where did you run off to?" Gabriel asks, leaning up against the stove. Sam sniffs, the smell of food cooking making his mouth water. That explains where Gabe was while he napped. 

Castiel sighs, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He drinks it down, as Gabriel waits patiently for an answer. Sam lifts a brow, curious too. He puts the glass down into the sink, running a hand over his chin as he to leans back against the counter. 

"I-" He mumbles, clearing his throat. He lowers his eyes to the floor. 

Sam folds his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame. 

"Your car was still here when we got back from the grocery store." Gabriel points out. Sam's interest spikes, his car was here?

"Dean was a mess." Gabe mumbles, his eyes taking on a far away look. He comes back to himself as Sam speaks. 

"Yes, he was." He says darkly, still eyeing Castiel.

He rubs the back of his head, his eyes flicking over to Sam. 

"I went for a walk." He answers, his voice almost a whisper. 

"A walk?" Gabriel says, his eyebrows raised high. Just as Sam says "A walk!" at the same moment, anger apparent on his face. 

"Yes." Castiel says simply, like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

Gabriel chuckles beside him, just as Sam shoots him another glare. 

"You went on a walk." Gabe repeats, chuckling. 

Castiel rolls his eyes, shrugging. "Yes." 

Gabriel full on laughs, covering his face. While Sam keeps a glare leveled on Castiel. 

"Why?" Sam clips out without even noticing as he stands up straight. 

Gabriel's laugh dies, and he looks over to him with one brow raised. Castiel drops his gaze to the floor, his fingers fiddling with the fabric on his pants. 

"Sam, come on." Gabriel says, a tinge of worry and authority in his voice. He glances over to the shorter man as he takes a step forward, away from the wall. 

"It's obviously none of our business. Cassie has, and Dean too, have had a hard couple of months." Gabriel's playful demeanor slips away as he folds his arms over his chest and places his eyes on Sam. 

Sam opens his mouth to speak, just to snap it closed again.

"Cas?" Comes a small familiar voice from behind him. 

He raises his head from where he lowered it, Castiel's eyes locked behind him, and Gabriel's switching from each persons face. Sam turns around, just as Castiel stands tall and walks over to the door way.

Castiel is soft and timid as he approaches and starts to whisper to Dean. Almost as if he is glass, and if he says something wrong Dean will shatter. Sam's eyes are wide as he watches Dean glare at Castiel, his expression turning from hurt to betrayal then back to relief. He can't make out the words that are being said. But as time wears on Castiel looks more and more like a kicked puppy, guilt littering his features. While Dean looks calmer, stressed, and sad all at the same time. 

Sam turns back to Gabriel, giving him a questioning look. Gabriel's bright eyes catch his, and he shrugs, mouthing 'I don’t know'. 

"Dean?" Sam says, turning back and taking a step forward. Green eyes flash up to his, Castiel completely forgotten as he steps back and retreats back into the dark hallway. Footsteps fade, Castiel flinching as a door is slammed. 

Sam stands in shock for a moment, as Castiel runs a hand down his face a sigh escaping his lips, Gabriel silent behind him. 

A long moment passes before Sam levels a glare at Castiel. 

"Awkward." Gabriel drawls from behind him, his back coming into view as he peeks down the hallway. Castiel lets out a humorless laugh. 

"Cas-" He starts. 

Castiel flicks up a hand, holding it in a stop notion. "Not now Sam." He growls, lifting his eyes once more and then retreating back into the hallway. 

Sam huffs, clenching his fists by his sides. 

"That could have gone better." Gabriel says, mostly to himself as he pulls something out of the oven, and begins to move about the kitchen again. 

What the hell? Sam thinks, stuck still as his mind whirls. 

….

October 7, 2012

 

Dean paces. Back and forth. Back and forth. The tiles of the bathroom cold against his bare feet. A rattling noise coming through the vent as cold air blows gently onto the dusty curtains hanging above the window. It smells of bleach in here, Dean thinks. Although it looks to be as if it was never cleaned before. One grey towel hangs on the rack, folded nicely once in half. There is no toothbrush, no soap, and nothing in the drawers when he snoops through them. 

There is however, a bar of blue soap in the shower. It looks to have been never been used before as he turns it over In his hands. 

The bathroom is just as empty as the rest of the house. 

Dean sighs, setting the soap back onto the edge of the tub. Then he continues to pace, his mind both overwhelmed and dead. A million thoughts run through his head, as he thinks of Alastair, his dad, of Sam. 

He wonders why the strange man was being so nice to him. Why he brought him home with him, or even offered him shelter. It's not like Dean asked, or even needed this strangers help. Granted he would be dead if it wasn't for him, but would that really be such a bad thing?

His Dad probably wasn't even looking for him. 

Unless he was.

Dean should call him. Apologize.

For what? 

John was the one that screamed in his face, told him to leave. Told him to never come back. 

Maybe he won't call. It's not like his dad cares where he is anyway. And there is no question that he is not going to call Sam. 

Sam wanted his own life, nothing to do with Dean. He would just ruin that by pulling him back into his drama. 

Maybe he will shower, then thank the stranger and be on his merry way. He doesn't need the man's pity. 

Dean nods, his jaw tight as he makes up his mind. 

He undresses in the weirdly naked bathroom, and slowly gets into the shower. 

 

…

 

*Now*

Only a couple hours away, the sound of an rumbling engine interrupts the steady sound of rain outside. A large green sign, reading vacant glinting off of its sleek body. The car is parked in one of the many empty spaces, the engine turned off only seconds later. A small tired man sits behind a large desk, his head tipping in exhaustion as he watches a man push through the office door. 

The bell above dings, alerting the man behind the desk. He snorts, sitting up straighter as the unfamiliar man approaches the desk. 

"One room." He grunts, pulling out a card and sliding it onto the desk's surface. The smaller man blinks up at him, once. Before he turns away and places a large book down, writing something out with a blue pen. The ink bleeds as he finishes scribbling. 

His tired eyes find the larger man's, screaming of boredom as he says. "That'll be Sixty." His voice is worn, and thick with an accent. 

He nods pushing the card closer to the man in front of him. He blinks down at it, picking up the blue card. It sticks to the grimy surface of the table, a dark stain atop that is barely noticeable amongst the rest of the stains. 

There's a ding and the man blinks, smacking his lips as he hands the card back. Not even bothering to look up he begins to search under the desk. He tucks the card back into his pocket, his eyes heavy as he watches as a key is held out to him. 

"Room." He pauses, looking down into the book he was writing in earlier. "Number 4." He finishes, settling back down into his chair. 

He nods his head, glancing back at the smaller man as his head begins to fall, then makes his way to his room. 

The key sticks in the lock, and he has to fight with it for minute before he pulls the thing out with a curse. 

The room is the same as any cheap motel, smells like dirt and cleaner. Floral covers, heavy curtains, stained who knows what color of carpet, and a cheap coffee maker shoved next to the prehistoric tv. 

He sighs, unlacing his boots, kicking them off, and clicking the lock closed before he falls into bed. 

One last thought crosses his mind before he drifts off to sleep. 

I'm coming Dean.

…  
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"She sees beauty in everything but herself."


	55. Chapter 55

Castiel honestly doesn't know where he is going as he storms off down the hallway. He just knows that he has no desire to speak to Sam, and Dean told him that he wants to be left alone. Which most likely means he will hole up in Castiel's room for the rest of the night. And that only leaves Gabriel's room, and the bathroom for him to go. He has no desire to go to either. What he really wants is to speak with Dean a little longer. Maybe even just sit with him for a while. 

He knows Dean wants his space, probably needs it. God knows Castiel is clingy, worse now that Dean is home. He has been unable to leave his side since he got back. There's always going to be that nagging fear that something bad is going to happen, which pretty much renders Castiel terrified and clingy. He's sure Dean feels claustrophobic by now. He just does not want Dean alone, at all. And not just because he's afraid of something happening. 

He's also scared that Dean is more of a harm to himself than anything else. He has a tendency to push things away, bury them deep, until they explode. And when they do that, Dean overthinks on them, until he literally turns on himself. Until he is constantly in his head, and unresponsive. Castiel knows that Dean needs distraction, that he can't let him think on things for too long. 

Which is how Castiel ends up facing his bedroom door. 

He blinks in surprise. He doesn't even remembering stopping. He is now face to face with the white paint of his door. His hands sweaty out of nervousness, and his mind going one hundred miles per hour. He just stands there and stares at the chipping paint, unable to think of what he will say if he does go in. 

What if Dean is even more upset with him for barging in? when he specifically told Castiel that he wanted to be alone. What if he realizes how horrible Castiel is? For all of the things he said earlier. 

He shouldn't. 

Castiel turns the doorknob with shaking hands. He really shouldn't, he should respect Dean's wishes. 

But he can't just leave him to destroy himself, when it was Castiel's fault in the first place. And he can't go on about the rest of his day without making things right. He feels guilty, and terrible for the way he acted. 

"Dean?" He says as he pushes the door the rest of the way open. What he is he even going to say? Will Dean even listen to him, after what he did? 

Castiel opens his mouth, unaware of just what he is going to say. 

Then stops.

The room is empty. 

 

…..

 

The tile is cold, the light above buzzing constantly. A low hum from the vent, and the click of water dripping. It’s a sickly yellow color in here, a certain kind of..

Haziness, like a dark heavy fog settled over everything. Its almost grey. The air heavy, and despite all of the noises, it's quiet. Unnervingly so. 

He can hear his raspy chest, as he takes in a gulp of hair. That however is too loud, and he wishes he could shut it out. He's sure he can hear his heartbeat, but isn't even positive that's possible. He swallows, his throat raw for unknown reasons. Or just reasons he would like to ignore. 

He thought it would be heavier, somehow much more than what it really is. Sure it feels foreign, and maybe a little nerve racking. But nothing like he thought. He was so sure it would be heavy, and it would feel wrong. Hell, maybe even a little too extreme, or overdramatic. 

But as Dean sits on the edge of the tub, a razor in hand, he finally feels complete. 

The small blade in his hand feels so right, like this was what it was made for. It's smooth and light, something that would look so innocent in any other situation, suddenly deadly. Not so much in his case, although the thought has crossed his mind. 

He contemplates what it would feel like. He's sure he knows, because Al has cut him tons of times. But what if it feels different now? Not like when he screamed 'no' as a blade was drug across his skin, Alastair's hungry eyes above him. What if it felt….good? Something he can control. He get's to pick where, when, and how deep. No one else's say in the matter. His body, his mind, all have been under other peoples control. So what if he just had this last bit of control? 

He feels ruined already. What's another scar to him? It's not like they don't litter his body already anyway. All of them made by someone else's hands. None of him is…him. It's all been taken from him. 

So if he can't control his spinning mind, or his damaged body. Then what if he just controlled this, just this small thing. 

Dean sighs, the blade glinting with yellow light as he moves it between his fingers. 

Is it possible to cut the voices out of his head? 

Will someone find out?

Would Cas be mad? 

Doesn't Cas hate him now anyway? Why does it matter. 

He doesn't want to get in trouble…

How will he hide it? Where will he be able to cut so that no one can see it. 

At first he thought his wrists, but that would be harder to hide. He can't do it anywhere on his arms, he pretty much lives in t shirts. And his chest? That would just be silly. What if Castiel sees him without a shirt? No. chest wont work either. His legs? Yes, that would be a good place. It might be hard to walk at first, but he would get used to it eventually. It can't be any worse than what he's had the last four years. He might even come to enjoy feeling the pain, knowing that it was his doing and no one else's. 

Dean runs a hand over his face. Was this really a good idea? 

 

….

 

Castiel sighs, closing the door to his bedroom again. 

Dean just needs some time to himself, it's nothing to be concerned about. Castiel just needs to calm down, he will talk to Dean, when Dean is ready to talk. 

He wanders back to the kitchen where Gabriel stands at the stove. He just now realizes the smell wafting in through the kitchen, it smells amazing. His stomach growls, catching the attention of his brother. His brown eyes light up. 

"Hungry Cassie?" he asks, a faint smile tilting his lips. 

Castiel nods eagerly, looking around the kitchen. 

"Where's Sam?" he asks, raising a brow as his eyes come back to his brother after scanning the empty kitchen. Gabriel scoops something cheesy from a pan onto two plates. 

"Oh, he's just out in the hall." Gabe says, grabbing another plate out from the cupboards. "He's talkin' on the phone." He explains as he catches Castiel's curious glance at the front door. 

"Do you think Dean wants some?" Gabriel asks, pulling Castiel from his thoughts. 

He shrugs, unsure. 

"I don't know. I think he is taking a shower now. So maybe just leave some for him in the fridge, I'll make sure he eats some later." He answers, his mind caught between Sam, and Dean. 

The brothers were quite a surprise to his life. 

"Wait." Gabriel says, turning back from the stove with a spoon in hand. He licks off the cheese, tossing it into the sink. 

"You mean you didn't talk to Dean then?" He asks, his face now a mix of confusion, and pity. 

"No." He answers simply, the front door opening. 

"How bout Star Wars?" Gabriel says, his eyes alight again, as he grabs his plate and races to the living room. 

 

 

…  
.

 

The room is starting to fog with steam, the water too hot as it pours from the shower head. He stairs at it, as it swirls down the drain. The sound like rain, but without the relaxing feeling that comes with it. 

He hates the rain. 

His naked skin is cold now, he's faintly aware that he's shivering. But he can't will his legs to move. He's frozen, just staring at the water as it disappears. 

He still has the blade in his hand, the newly bandaged one to be exact. The bandage he has no recollection of getting. Just like a lot of things he has, or had. 

He's sure his lungs are going to collapse, as he breathes in the steam. Somewhere between helping him breath, and suffocating. 

He's such a wimp. What happened to the old Dean? 

Did he die along with the rest of him? 

His chest rattles again, and he closes his eyes. Another thing that was given to him. As if it wasn't enough to scar his outside, Alastair had to scar his insides to. His soul. His mind. 

He's controlled every second of Dean's life, and now it's time for him to control it. 

He steps into the shower, slowly, his body still sore. 

A blast of blood covers his vision, and he squeezes his eyes shut. The echo of a gunshot racketing off of the walls. He's not sure who's screaming though for a moment. 

That's you. A slithering voice whispers, a ghost of breath on his ear. 

'you hear that, baby? You sound so delicious when you scream for me.' 

Except for it's not him, it's in his head. It's the same scream he's heard a million times. The one he made as Alastair's brains scattered the wall. The one he made right before it went black. Castiel's rage filled face burned into his eyes. 

Dean doesn’t know how he ended up on the floor of the tub. His knees to his chest, and his hands over his ears. 

He can't hear the scream anymore. 

But he can feel just how alone he is right now. The air from the confined space cold against his back, his face, his neck. He feels the water cascading down his back, his face wet with both water and tears. He sobs as quietly as he can manage. 

It's not so much the fact that Alastair is gone. It's also because he feels Al will be the only one to fill him completely. He's taken so much, that Dean feels hollow and lost without his presence. 

He loves Castiel, with all of his heart. But…

Cas barely will even touch him. He treats him like this child, this broken thing. That he has to be the one to save Dean. But he doesn’t understand that Dean has already been saved. He was saved the night Alastair lowered that gun from his head. He was saved the day Castiel took him home after he passed out. 

He is saved. 

But now he needs someone, anyone, to just treat him like a normal human being again. He doesn't remember what that feels like. All he knows is pain, and pity. 

Castiel looks physically pained to even touch him, let alone kiss him. And sex is completely out of the picture. 

Dean feels used. 

He feels physically and emotionally dirty. And when Cas touches him, when he looks at him the way he does sometimes…

He feels like he's been touched by an angel. That his sins don't matter, his mistakes are nothing to be worried about. He feels it's almost like Alastair never touched. Like they never even met before. 

But Cas doesn't want that, he can see it. The disgust, the pain, the way he flinches from Dean when he touches him. 

He just wants to feel loved, like Castiel tells him he should be. 

So why won't he?

Why does Dean have to be this broken thing? 

Why cant he just be normal. Someone people desired. 

His chest rattles again, the water stinging his eyes as he opens them again. He almost wishes he would have stayed dead. 

The razor glints in the light, having fallen next to the drain. 

He stares at it. 

It's weird to see the water so clean. No red tint, no white chunks, no clumps of dried blood. He recalls the feeling, somewhat hazy, as if it happened a long time ago. Some part of him craves for it, the pain. It was something he was so used to, it became expected at some point. Although he doesn't remember when. It was just something that he knew would happen, whether it be every day or every other. It was something that happened. 

And now without it, he feels weird, lost. 

He unfolds his legs slowly, his hair stuck to his face as tears still run down his face. Now silent. 

The blade feels the same as before as he picks it up.

….  
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..  
.  
.  
.  
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.  
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Its like one day you flipped a switch and became someone I never knew.


	56. Chapter 56

He woke up that morning with a weird feeling in his gut. And as he got up from his bed, where Dean still lay sleeping. His body turned away from Castiel, and his breathing rattling in his chest. He tried to push it down as far as possible, leaving it in the back of his mind and placing it as left overs from yesterdays events. Because there is no way it could be anything else. Now that things are winding down, he needs to do the same. Stop feeling on edge all of the time, because he doesn't need to be on high alert anymore. 

Dean is safe, and so is he. So there is no need to be feeling this way. 

He wipes a hand over his face, Glancing back over to where Dean lays. Their fine.

Finally a little bit of peace settles over him, and he then goes about his business quietly. Forgetting the nagging scratch for a moment, he gathers the familiar black clothes from the split shared closet. His wardrobe now mixed in with Dean's. Which brings just the tiniest hint of a smile to his face, considering they had split it when Dean first moved in, and kept their things apart at first. That is until Dean decided to just take over the space, wearing Castiel's and his own clothes, mixing them in until it didn't matter who's was who's anymore. They just shared, and wore whatever was convenient. 

He makes sure to pull the covers back up around Dean's shoulders, lingering there for only a moment. Then he grabs his phone from the dresser, and makes sure to snag his wallet as well, before tip toeing out of the room. 

Castiel shuts the door as quietly as possible, hoping that Dean get some more much needed sleep. Seeming as how he didn't sleep all that well after his long shower last night. Tossing and turning, his brows pinched and mouth shut in a thin line. All though he made no noise, Castiel could tell he was almost physically in pain. 

He is still exhausted, half regretting staying up and worrying like he did. But he was so worked up about Dean and his nightmares, that he barely slept a wink. And no matter how many times he tried to comfort Dean, he would pull away from him as if he were in pain, and Castiel would have no choice but to retreat to his side of the bed and just worry while he watched over him. 

Although that is a mostly normal night for them, Castiel still wishes that he could have slept just a little more. Since he does have to get back to the bar for work today. Not only that but he has to be in there this morning for some spring cleaning, and more. Meg had texted him shortly after the movie had ended-while he was waiting on the couch for Dean, not even paying attention to the movie on the screen, or Gabe's commentary- that some asshole trashed the bar in a fight, and Crowley wants all of them there by ten AM to clean up the mess. 

So not only are they cleaning but they are restocking some of the things that were broken. And that also means that Castiel has to deal with Conner today. Which shouldn’t be too hard for him to handle, considering their last conversation. But Conner does have a thing for drama, so he will show up prepared for that as well. 

He's not even sure why he hasn't quit yet. It's not like he needs something to fill his free time anymore. He's actually quite busy now with Dean. And he would love to spend more time with him. If it weren't for the fact that he thinks that he is smothering Dean, he would have quit. Fathers money is more than enough for them to live on. 

But Castiel feels as though he is annoying Dean with how much he is around lately. He thinks that maybe he just needs some time to himself, or with his brother. Then maybe he will feel a little better. Hell, it might even help his stress level, and then lead to helping his night mare problem.

Since Castiel hasn't had time to look into getting help for Dean yet, nor has he brought up the idea to anyone. He's not even sure Dean wants help, he barely even let Castiel in…What makes him think that he will let another complete stranger in?

He sighs, locking the bathroom door behind him. 

Now that he thinks about it, Dean only let him in- he's only assuming- because Castiel saw him at his weakest, and he had no other choice but to let him in. It's not like anyone else was jumping in to help him, so he saw Castiel and jumped for it. 

There's no way Dean would actually talk to someone about this. He's sure of it. 

But he guesses it doesn't hurt to try. Not now though, later, when things have calmed down a little. And if his nightmares get any worse then Castiel will consider sooner. But only then. 

He thinks of just how weird Dean had acted last night. As he hops into a shower of his own, adjusting the temperature out of memory, his mind wondering right back to Dean. How he quietly came out of the bathroom, already dressed in his pajamas, his hair still dripping wet and sticking to his head. He frowned as he looked at Castiel, his eyes still sad and red. But that's to be expected by now. He hadn't said anything as he sat down on the other side of the couch, where Sam and his brother had been earlier before they headed off to bed. 

Castiel had tried at least five times to get Dean to eat the casserole that Gabriel saved in the fridge for him. Each time getting the same soft reply of 'I'm not hungry'. And each time he got more and more concerned. Because not only is Dean too skinny, but he hadn't eaten at all that day, because of the events of that morning. 

Which Castiel still feels bad about, but has no idea of how to talk to Dean about it. And he's sure it's eating at him, at the both of them. But he just can't seem to form the right words to say. 'I'm sorry' would be a start, but Castiel still hasn't said those words yet. But he feels them, with everything that he has, he just doesn't know if Dean would believe just how sorry he is. 

Because for some reason Dean still doesn't trust him completely. Even after everything that's happened between them, he still thinks that Castiel would lie to him. 

He sighs, turning the warm water off and drying himself. He tries to shut down his brain as he hears voices coming from the kitchen. Sam's calm voice filters in through the door, and Castiel hurries to get dressed. His curiosity spiked. He checks himself over in the mirror, after spraying some cologne on. Then opens the bathroom door and makes his way out to the kitchen where the voices are coming from. 

On his way he checks to make sure his door is still closed, confirming Dean still sleeping. Hopefully. 

Sam stands next to the fridge, fully dressed and a coffee cup in hand. He's looking to Gabriel, where he stands close to Sam's side, his expression rarely serious, and a mug in his hand as well. They look deep into conversation, so Castiel passes them to the coffee maker, grabbing his own mug down. 

"Mornin' Cas." Comes Sam's voice, the shifting of clothing as he moves to stare at Castiel now. He pours the black liquid into his cup, securing a lid onto it. Before he turns himself, giving a half hearted smile. 

"Good morning." He says back, his voice more sleep ridden than he expected. Gabriel peeks at him from above his coffee cup, gulping down the steaming liquid. When he pulls off, his face is still serious. Castiel tilts his head curiously. 

"What's going on?' he asks, his eyes switching from his brother to Sam. After a few moments of silence, Sam and Gabe exchanging glances. Sam finally answers, his eyes soft.

"It's nothing really." He starts, running a hand through his hair, as his eyes flick down to his shoes. 

He raises his brows in question, looking to only Sam now as he waits for an explanation. 

"I just need to be heading back home soon, Jessica is worried, and I have a job to get to." He finishes in a rush, his eyes big as they come back up to meet Castiel's. 

He let's that process for a moment, opening and closing his mouth twice before he finally answers. 

"Oh." is all that comes out, his head still working around it. How could he forget. Sam has a life to get back to, there's no way he should have been here for even this long. Granted they didn't know if Dean was going to die, so that was a no brainer when he decided to stay. 

But now that Dean's recovering, he needs to get back to his own life. 

Honestly, it's okay with Castiel if Sam goes back home. But it's a whole other story for how Dean will feel about it. 

"How are you going to tell Dean?" he asks, one eyebrow quirked. Sam swallows, looking over to Gabriel. He eyes them warily, as Gabriel wonders over to the sink to dump his cup. Sam looks down to his feet again, his thumb running over his cup. 

"Well." he starts, scratching the back of his head with a huff. 

"I was hoping to take my brother with me. You know, just until he-" He starts, his eyes wild now as he looks anywhere but Castiel. His heart speeds quickly, panic shooting through him like lightening. 

Castiel cuts him off sharply, waving his hand in a quick movement. 

"No." He growls, his brows furrowing. Not in anger, but possessiveness maybe? That's worse than anger isn't it? He shouldn't act like this towards Dean's brother. Nor should he be so possessive. You can't blame him though, he's already lost Dean, he can't go through that again. No matter what it takes. 

Sam's eyes snap up to him, his own tinge of anger showing through the soft brown of his gaze. "What? Cas, he's my brother-" Castiel cuts him off again, not willing to let Sam finish that sentence. 

"And I said no." He says, his eyes boring into Sam before him, his eyes stubborn.

He huffs, rubbing a hand down his face. Before sighing, his anger melting out of him just as quickly as it came. 

"Cas…" He says, his words riddled with exhaustion. 

"Dean has no where else to go. And he would be better off with me and Jess." He tries to explain, gripping his mug tightly.

Castiel's brows only sink lower. "He lives here." He replies simply, keeping his gaze firm.

Gabriel blows out a breath, stepping forward from the sink. Hesitance in his older brothers step as he approaches Castiel. He stops slightly in between him and Sam. 

"Cassie-" he starts, his eyes sad as he looks over to his brother. Castiel frowns in confusion, why are they ganging up on him? He's not going to lose this either way. 

"He lives here." He repeats, both Sam and Gabriel's eyes on his. 

"Okay. Okay." Sam finally says, tucking his hair back as it falls forward into his eyes. 

"Are you sure Cas? I don't want-" he pauses, his face scrunching. "I don't want you to have to take care of my brother if you don't want to. I would understand if…you didn't." He finishes, his face still scrunched. 

Castiel sighs, just a little hurt. "Of course I do, Sam. He's not. I'm not going to give up on him." 

He doesn't bother to say that he loves Dean. That he would never leave him, or let him go. Because that sounds weird, and just a little to romance novel worthy. He hasn't even really told Dean those things, no way is he going to tell them to his brother, and Sam. Because as far as they are concerned Castiel and Dean are just a thing. No idea how or why. 

Sam nods, his expression somewhat surprised and pleased. 

"When do you think you will be leaving?" Castiel asks. 

Sam takes a sip out of his cup, biting his lip as he thinks. 

Castiel hopes Dean has some time to process this information, before Sam leaves. He's not sure how he will take it, or if he even wants to stay. 

Panic courses through him. What if Dean chooses to leave? And go back home with Sam? Castiel wont know how to handle that. He kind of just assumed Dean would stay, but after their fight yesterday, he might not want to. Hell, he might want to leave Cas all together. 

"Not sure yet." Sam's voice scares him, and he looks up sharply, not even realizing that his gaze had slipped to the tile beneath his feet. "I think before this week is over though." He finishes, nodding to himself. 

Castiel nods too, his gaze slipping again, down the hallway, where he knows Dean is still sleeping. He contemplates whether he should say goodbye before he leaves. If he should wake him, even though he needs sleep now, while he recovers. He thinks if he doesn't he will feel worse than he already does. He looks back to his brother and Sam, giving them a tight smile. 

"I've got to head out to work. I'm going to say goodbye to Dean." He says turning from the kitchen, as both Sam and Gabriel agree. 

Castiel opens his bedroom door slowly, the hinges squeaking as he pushes through and shuts it behind him to keep from being heard. To his surprise Dean is awake, still laying in the same position as before. His hands curled to his chest, and his legs bent under the mounds of blankets. He looks up to Cas as he comes around the bed, his eyes swollen and red from lack of sleep. He tries to smile softly at Dean, but all he get's in return is a frown. 

"I'm headed to work." he whispers, kneeling next to the bed and running a hand through his hair. Dean nods, blinking slowly at him. Cas breathes out, his chest tight. He wants to apologize, but when he tries what comes out is the complete opposite. 

"Alright, see you later Dean." He says instead, staying crouched by the bed. His answer is soft, and if Castiel wasn't so attuned he wouldn’t have heard him. Just a small hum in the back of Dean's throat, his eyes moving from Castiel to the curtained window behind him. 

He tries not to be disappointed by the obvious rejection, his hand tightening around his coffee. But he can't help but feel a little sad as he stands up, and presses a kiss to Dean's hair, Dean's entire body tense as he does so. 

He glances back once, before closing the bedroom door behind him softly. 

 

…..

 

 

"So you just let him go?" Meg asks, from where she's sweeping up broken glass behind the bar. Her hair in a bun, and her eyes tired as she looks over to him questioningly. 

She had looked stressed when he came in this morning, having been here late that night, waiting for the cops to come get the men that trashed the place. Meg doesn't always look worn, but today she looked as if she hadn't gotten any sleep at all. 

She was in such a bad mood that she had told Conner that he had to work in the back today. Which Castiel had been thankful for, as he to was exhausted. 

"Yes." he answers simply, shrugging as he places another glass bottle on the bottom shelve. The box he has full of liquor that was shipped in this morning. 

Meg's eyes are skeptic as she looks over to him, a tilt to her red painted lips. "Really?" She says, huffing out a laugh. "I'm surprised Clarence, I would have taken you for the law abiding type." She says, full on grinning down at Castiel.

He looks up surprised. "I am. But I couldn't exactly call the cops after I had just tied a man up and beat him to a pulp." Meg's smile get's wider, she shakes her head. "Yeah, yeah. I know." 

Castiel goes back to stocking the top shelves. Standing from his position, and pulling his phone from his pocket to check it quickly. There are no texts, or missed calls. Which he should be happy about, because that means everything is okay. But it is a little disappointing, because Castiel had left his number on the fridge and was hoping that Dean would at least check in with him. 

If he didn’t feel so clingy, he would text or call home just so he could check on Dean. But he doesn’t because if Dean needs him he will call. 

Won't he?

 

…

 

Dean wakes later, after Castiel has left, having fallen back asleep at some point after he heard the door shut. He opens his eyes and looks over to the clock, where it reads noon. He sighs, hissing because his leg's fucking ache, his heartbeat still pounding and throbbing in them. He groans as he carefully extracts himself from the bed. And begins to tug his pants down as he sees the small red stain, fairly new on his grey sweatpants. He sits himself on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs apart. 

There are eight cuts on the inside of his thighs, slit evenly between the two. The first cut he made on his right leg is deep, too deep. He doesn't remember making it like that but he winces just looking at the gaping slash. He can see some fatty muscle peeking through, blood still seeping out sluggishly. He briefly wonders if he will need stiches, though he has no idea how he would get them if he did. 

He runs his fingers over the other red slices he made. His fingers coming back off with a hint of red tinting them. 

He still doesn't know, as he looks down at the damage covering his already scarred legs, how he feels about this. Doing this to himself, he means. Some part of him is scared, fucking terrified that he will get caught. But a large part feels so good, like he actually controls something. 

Something that makes the pain go away. Even if just for a second. But that small push of adrenaline is like heaven, an addiction. He's sure that he likes it. In some way. 

But then came looking at Cas, without telling him. With the knowledge that he just cut himself open, and it kind of hurts. He has to look at him and keep that secret. 

He's sure Castiel wouldn't understand anyway. 

His finger prods at the deepest cut, a hiss escaping his lips. He hadn't meant to cut that deep, but it was his first try. And he wasn't sure how to even go about the pressure of the blade. Until he just kept pushing and pushing, and then there was so much pain. 

But then there was relief, sweet, sweet relief. And he continued to drag the thing across his thigh. Dragging it across one of his scars in victory. 

Like he was rewriting his own story, changing the lines made by somebody else. Until they were something he desired, something he planned. Not Something Alastair had made anymore, it was new.

 

….

 

Before Castiel knows it, the bar is filled with people. Not as many as he is used to, seeming as it's only a Thursday night. But enough that he is distracted from thoughts of home and Dean. 

He fills drinks, chats with costumers he knows, and some he doesn't. Accepting tips and keeping an eye out for anyone underage that might be sneeking in. Usually Meg is the expert on that, she can spot a minor a mile away. And Castiel isn't as good at it, but he tries. 

Conner still works in back. And when he does have to interact up front he keep his distance. So far he's been respectful, and maybe a little scared of Castiel? Which he really doesn't mind, as long as the kid is done hitting on him. Or even worse hitting on Dean, like he almost did last time he was here. Then Castiel has no problem, and does not need to interfere. 

Meg works out on the dance floor as always, while Castiel mixes drinks behind the bar. 

He still keeps a look out. Maybe it's a habit, maybe it's his nerves, or something to do with the weird feeling that still nags at him. Or maybe he just enjoys that for once, he is not looking for a threat. 

 

…..

 

Ten turns to twelve. And Castiel begins to lose time, forgetting all about leaving his number for Dean to call. His phone is silent the entire time, and he finally starts to get in to the rhythm of things again. Just the way he used to. 

A drink there, a wink here. 

Nothing new, and nothing to be worried about. 

He does however wish he could go home. Already missing Dean. Castiel knows he shouldn’t worry, and that he shouldn’t even be thinking about him. But he can't help but to wonder how he's doing, or what he's doing. 

He shakes the thought off quickly as another costumer sits down at the bar. Near the door, where the lighting is less harsh. He throws his cloth over his shoulder and makes his way to the man slowly. 

The man is older, the start of a beard covering his face, as if he hadn't shaved or showered in days. He's dressed in a brown leather jacket, and ripped jeans, complete with heavy work boots. His jaw set tight, and his lips pressed into a thin line. There are lines around his eyes, years of to much worrying locked away. His brown eyes hard, and completely closed off as he looks up to Castiel. 

"What can I get for you?"

….  
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TBC


	57. Chapter 57

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't give those files to you, they are classified." 

Her voice is small and sweet, as she speaks, with just the briefest hint of authority in it. Her eyes sad, when she looks up to him. A hazel color lined with more brown than green, bloodshot and adorned with long black eyelashes. Her hair tied into a ponytail, blonde strands astray in a way that tell's him that she's had just as much of a hectic morning as he has had. She folds her arms over the file in her hands, pressing it in closer to her chest. 

There's the smallest hint of perfume on her, over taken by the smell of chemicals. Her blue scrubs fitting loose across her thin body, yellow ducklings printed across them, complete with cheap white sneakers. She stands signifcantly shorter than him, as he has to look down to look into her eyes. 

"I'm his father." He says, keeping his voice firm. The nurse looks down at the files in her arms, chewing on her lip briefly. She looks to have a internal fight with herself, before speaking again, her tone just as sad as before. 

"I still can't give them to you." She states. "Not without some kind of identification." Her voice drifts off, as she shakes her head at him. The look of pity crossing her features as she looks back up to him. 

He clenches his jaw, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"There has to be something you can do." He says, taking a step closer to the shorter woman. 

She shakes her head again, her features still sad. "Like I said, those files are classified." She says, shrugging. 

He sighs harshly, throwing his hand down from his face. She flinches at the sound, but doesn't make a move to go anywhere. Some other people glancing their way, as they walk by. Other wise though they leave them be. He looks down to his shoes, still muddy from the rain earlier that week. He thinks through his options, but finds nothing he can do. 

Her expression hasn't changed as he looks back up to her. 

"Fine." He says, brushing past the smaller woman in frustration. He will just have to find another way to get the hospital records, and reports. 

He pushes out of the hospital, and out into the chilled evening. Shoving his hand through his hair as he walks over to the impala's sleek body. If he's going to do something, it needs to be soon. The sun is descending quickly.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dials in the number and waits for the familiar voice on the other side.

"John Winchester, never thought I would hear from you again."

 

…..

 

Dean bandages his leg as best as he can. Blood still leaking sluggishly from the deepest of cuts on his thigh, soiling his makeshift bandage in minutes. He's sure it will hold though, hopefully enough that it doesn't leak through his pants again. He makes sure to pull on some black sweats he finds in Cas' drawer after he's done, just in case. Then buries the bloody one's under the dirty clothes, hoping like hell that no one notices them. Maybe he will have to do laundry just to make sure. 

His leg throbs in pain when he finally stands on it, but nothing compared to the way he feels in his chest. And no where near the pain he has felt before. But he finds that he already wants to do it again. He already craves to feel the blade in his hand again. The high he get's only lasts so long before the pain comes back. And he wonders if it's supposed to be such small bliss. Because he's not sure he could hide any more of these cuts if he were to make more so soon. 

Not until the one's he has heal a little more. Because he can barely walk as it is, and he will have to work on that if he leaves Cas' room today. Or else Sam and Gabriel will be suspicious. Or worse Cas will, and that man will find out if he isn't careful.

So yes, he will wait until they heal just a little before he tries again. That is unless he starts to feel worse again, then Dean will have no choice but to make it stop.

Maybe then he will try again. But he finds that the deepest of the cuts is what is keeping him at bay. And he wonders if he should try to cut just a little deeper next time, like he had done with that one. It's dangerous, but not if he does it right. As long as he misses any large arteries he will be fine. 

A knock on the door startles him from his thought, and he backs away just slightly as it's opened. Just now realizing he had been staring at the wall this whole time, with his fists clenched in the soft fabric of his pants.

He let's go of them, his hand now throbbing where he had re opened the cuts yesterday. And stares as Sam pokes his head in. 

There's a faint smile gracing his lips, but his eyes are still sad as he looks over Dean. 

"I made lunch if you want some." He says, stepping into the room fully. He keeps his distance, like Dean is some skittish animal. And that kind of makes him angry, because he hates being treated like some fragile mess. Like it's their job to fix him, and he has no say in any of it. He's handling everything just fine. 

"'m not hungry." he mumbles, his stomach twirling at the thought of food. 

If it's even possible Sam looks even more sad. His eyes raking Dean's body so quick, that if he wasn't paying attention he would not have seen it. His brother chews on his lip, taking a step closer, the door still cracked behind him. 

"Dean, you need to eat." He says, his voice still soft as he speaks. 

He folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head at his brother. 

"I'm not hungry." he repeats, still shaking his head. 

Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's quiet for only a moment, and Dean looks up to him again in surprise. 

"I can bring it in here?" Sam tries, his tone somehow lower and softer. 

He shakes his head again, frustrated. He is not some child, he can take care of himself for hell's sake. 

"No." He answers, firmly.

Sam's face falls from the hope he had put there. He stands there for a moment, switching from foot to foot. Before he finally decides that Dean is too stubborn and gives up. 

"Ok. That's, okay." He mumbles, chewing his lip again. 

Dean feels kind of guilty, but holds his ground as Sam finally relents and steps back out of the room, his expression still sad. The door clicks quietly behind him, his words so quiet Dean almost doesn't hear them.

"Just let us know if you need anything."

 

….

 

His contact proves to be very helpful indeed.

In less than an hour, he has a bulky file filled with every visit Dean has ever made to the hospital or doctors office. Printed off, and paper clipped into a yellow file. That John tucks under his arm, as he wrestles with the lock on his motel room. Another bag hanging off of his other arm, and rain dripping from his hair and jacket. Wetting his face, and soaking his body. 

He finally get's the thing open with a curse, the door swinging and crashing into the wall behind it. Luckily no one else is in the room next to him. No one seems to stay in this motel anymore anyway. Having been long abandoned by the locals. And judging by the state of his room, he doesn't blame them. 

It's old, and dirty. Stains across the shaggy carpet, and wallpaper peeling off of the walls. The ceiling damaged and yellow. And a faucet that spews brown water and drips constantly. The bed, nor the couch are much better, both well used and caved in, unknown stains covering them.

If it weren't for the fact that John refuses to spend the money he got in return for Dean, and lives off of hustled and stolen money. He wouldn't be so used to places like this, nor would he think it wasn't that bad compared to where he has been. And after what he's done, he figures he deserves it. More than anyone else. 

He should have to stay in these places, and go hungry for days when he can't go hustling. And he definatly shouldn’t be shown mercy for everything he has put his family through. 

John throws his keys down on the broken coffee table, and strips out of his wet jacket. Throwing it over the back of the small green couch. Shivering as his t shirt sticks to him, the heat also broken in the small room. He would consider taking a shower if he weren't on such a tight schedule. But he figures he has time for that later. Now he needs to read through these files, and figure out the next steps for finding Dean. 

So with the small lamp, flickering next to him, casting shadows across the faded wallpaper. The thunder rumbling outside, and the sound of rain pounding on the roof. He sits on the sunken in and ripped couch, and pulls the folders closer to him. 

He's not sure what to expect when he opens them. He hasn't seen his son in more than two years. And he's not even sure if the man he…

John blinks past the stinging in his eyes as he thinks about it. But there is no other word for him to use, and he really shouldn't hide from something he did. He deserves the pain no matter how much he can't bare it. 

The man he sold Dean to. He's not even sure of what he did to his son in the time he had him. All he knows is the information the news gave out, that dreadful night he was lucky enough to see it on tv. The night he found that he sold Dean off to a monster, while all along he was content with the knowledge that Dean was safe. That he had somewhere to live, food, a job, everything John ever wanted for his son. 

Alastair had tried to murder his first born, and a local hero had saved him from his fate. Two gun shots to the head. 

It was big enough news to be shown in the town he was currently in, and he's both glad and horrified that it did. Because if it hadn't of seen it, John would have continued his pathetic life without ever knowing how much pain he had caused Dean. Without ever knowing just how much he screwed up, and why he's always had such a terrible feeling in his gut about it.

And he's sorry. 

He's so fucking sorry. Which is why he will find his son, and he will make this right. If he can.

With a big breath, he opens the files in his hands, knowing nothing of what he's about to read.

 

….

 

John is physically sick by the time he closes the file. His throat tight, and his eyes stinging. 

The first few files are from when Dean was still with him. Small instances, really, where he was sick, or the time he broke his finger on accident while he helped John fix the impala. Nothing too huge and nothing that he worried about. 

But then came only a couple months after Dean was with Alastair. They were also small, at first. He was sick, something that they hadn't clarified in the files. A type of stomach flu that they had never seen before. And they ended up just sending him home with some medicine. John would have put that aside if it weren't for the knowledge that Dean was with Alastair at the time. And that his weight had dropped at least by ten pounds in the files. 

Then came a sprained ankle, something he doesn't think to be very important, and he slides aside. But if he would have known what he was going to be reading later on, he would have paid much more attention.

Because Dean disappears completely. For three months, there are no files on his son ever visiting the clinic. Which should be good, right? 

No.

The end of June Dean is admitted into the hospital. Four cracked ribs, a broken nose, a cracked hip, a concussion, and a dislocated shoulder. Multiple lacerations, and bruises covering his torso, legs and hips. The file says car accident, but there are no records of a car anywhere to be seen. And John calls bullshit. 

Because his son has lost twenty five pounds by then, underweight, and still complaining of sickness. 

It goes unnoticed though, and his son is sent home with prescriptions for pain killers, Alastair his emergency contact. When he looks in further he notes that the medicine is never picked up from the pharmacy. And his son once again disappears from the records.

And once he picks up the last page in the file, he wishes that he never read it. 

His son is admitted into the hospital, no more than a couple months ago. Complaining of breathing problems, and experiencing multiple seizers. The paramedics having revived his son in a apartment building on the kitchen floor earlier that day. A close call that just get's worse. 

Dean get's worse, and they suspect him to die. Seizers, breathing problems, and heart irregularity. His son now approaching anorexic, having lost thirty something pounds since John last saw him. He can't keep anything down, his heart stops constantly. And the doctors have saved him from death several times. 

The files is by a Skylar woman, the doctor at the time. But then as he reads on the doctor suddenly changes and there are more things wrong with Dean. 

He's been poisoned. And John has to stop reading for just a moment, his breathing heavy, just the same as his heart. 

The very last things are what make him want to puke. 

The very last day, the day Alastair was killed. Dean was beaten, poisoned and raped. But to top all of that off he was placed as dead for nearly ten minutes, before someone found him and his savor. 

That's as far as he get's before he pukes. Stumbling into the bathroom and falling in front of the toilet, his knees cracking against the tile beneath him painfully. Everything he ate that day comes right back out, tears he didn't give permission to fall soaking his face. 

John would never admit to it. But he sobs as he heaves up his stomach, his heart pounding in just as much pain as his insides. He could never explain how terrible he felt, how he wishes he could have done anything to prevent this from happening. That he was smart enough to refuse that offer, to just have Dean back the way he was. Because nothing will ever hurt as much as the guilt that pounds through every inch of his body. 

Nothing will ever compare to the feeling of just how much he screwed up. And nothing will ever bring his son back, not the way he was before, not ever. 

Dean is broken, and his own father had a hand in his destruction. 

 

Which is how John ends up at a bar not even ten minutes after his breakdown. Sitting in a darkened corner, and waving over a familiar blue eyed boy that he can't quite place where from. His heart in his throat, and his eyes heavy from exhaustion. 

"What can I get for you?"

 

….  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
…


	58. surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am back!

It's hours before he moves from the bed. His legs threatening to give out beneath him as he stands. The cuts on his thighs coming alive with pain. He groans slightly, his hand coming out to catch himself on the wall. He really shouldn’t have cut that deep, his thigh is almost unbearable now… With another shock of pain he manages to balance himself and let go of the wall, standing up as straight as he can manage. His head still spins, but that's something that he's gotten used to. His stomach rolling uncertainly with the room for a moment. 

Part of him wishes for Castiel, his mind just a little too unstable for him to be comfortable alone. Which Cas always helps with. But then the other part doesn't want to be so needy all of the time. Because Castiel is at work, and he just barely got to go back. Because of Dean, he had to miss work to take care of him. And if that's not enough he is still trying to take care of Dean, and he is not making it easy for Cas. 

He knows that he could call the bar, or Cas' phone and he would come straight home.

But he's not going to do that. Because Dean is not a wimp, he doesn't need to have someone come to make him feel better. He just needs to suck it up and move on. 

So that's what he tries to do. 

With his head still spinning he makes his way over to the bedroom door. The first time he will be leaving this room all day. And he turns the knob. 

He turns it about half way before he starts to panic. Sudden, and for no reason. He let's go of the door knob and stumbles back, wrapping his arms around himself. It shouldn’t be so damn hard to just open a door and leave the small bedroom. 

But it is, and he's not sure why. 

His mind supports him with an answer that he refuses to think about. It makes his heart throb in his chest, and his throat tightens with more unshed tears. That he refuses to let fall. He will not cry. 

 

Not if he can help it at least. 

Wrapping himself in his own arms just a little tighter, he closes his eyes and tries to breath. Which of course isn't all that easy either. His chest rasping with every breath, tight and sore for reasons he rather not think about. But he does manages to calm down a little bit, if not more, within just a couple of minutes. 

He doesn't need Cas to comfort him, he has got this under control. 

With one more large breath, he unwraps himself and walks to the door again. This time though he doesn't hesitate. He doesn't even think about it as he turns the knob and steps out into the hall. Closing the door behind himself, just so he can't go back in at the last second. 

It might sound like an easy thing to do, and that maybe he's being a little rash about things. But for him…leaving a room was most times not allowed. Or just plain terrifying. Because he had no idea what was waiting for him on the other side if he did. He was trying so hard to just be okay. And if that meant barely moving or touching anything all day, than so be it. Because the more things he did the more of a chance that he would screw it up. And if he screwed it up then he was punished. 

More than anything Dean wanted to please. He wanted to do whatever it was right, and he wanted to be praised for it. Hell or just be okay after would be fine with him. But it seemed like everything he did was wrong. He doesn't know how it was wrong. All he was told was that he needed to pay for that, or that he needed to be punished because he did something wrong. Most time's he had no idea what he did, but he knew that it must have been bad. 

So yes. Leaving the room is terrifying. Even just to go to the bathroom, or eat, was enough to make him fear for his life. 

And even though he knows that Castiel would never punish him like another person he chooses to ignore. He still has that fear in the back of his head that maybe just maybe he will be punished. Whether it be because Cas get's sick of him, or he just feels like Dean needs to repay him for all he's done for him. Or hell, maybe even for fun. What ever the reason, he can't help but fear, and wait for that day to come. 

Just because Cas is nice to him, and promises that he would never do that. He doesn't trust it, because that is exactly what Alastair said to him. And look how that ended. 

That name still hurts, and he clenches his jaw to push it back out of his head. 

He needs to stop thinking completely. 

With a raspy exhale he walks down the hallway. 

Or more like tip toes, taking only small steps at a time. He tries to just suck it up and go, but as soon as he does a chill runs through his body. All the way to his toes, like lightening bolts of fear, and he stops, tip toeing forward once again. 

Even with his brother here he feels un safe. Which he shouldn't. but it's kind of hard not to when he just knows the other shoe is going to drop. He's not sure when it will, but he knows that it will. Because Dean has never been so lucky, and all good things must come to an end, right? Plus without Cas in the house, Gabriel could do anything. And who knows if Sam is still even around right now. Or if he would care a voice whispers to him, suspiciously familiar and snake like.

He continues down the hall for what seems like forever. But finally. Finally. He reaches the kitchen, and he stops. No one is there, but he can hear the TV in the living room. Which means that someone is home. The only question is who. Of course not Cas, because he is at work until who knows when tonight. And that leaves his brother or Gabriel, or both. He secretly hopes for just Sammy, but he doesn't bet on it. 

He steps fully into the kitchen and looks over to spot two people on the couch. Gabriel and Sam, sitting on opposite sides with their legs on the coffee table. They don't notice him, even as he keeps walking further into the kitchen. So invested in the movie that’s playing on the screen that they don't even really pay attention to him walking into the room and sitting down on one of the recliners, the one closest to Sam.

But when his brother does happen to catch sight of Dean, his eyes widen slightly and he jumps just a little where he sits. Gabriel only glances over at Dean, with a small tilt to his lips before looking back to the movie that still plays. He doesn't keep his gaze on Sam for very long, looking over to the TV and staring at it but not really seeing it. Even though he vaguely recognizes it as one of his old favorites, he still can't concentrate on watching it. Because his heart is racing so fast he thinks it might pound right out of his chest.

He hasn't really left Cas' room since he got back. No including his small freak out the other day, because he was running on pure fear. And he can't seem to remember much of it any way. He has not dared to leave that room. It's so far outside of his comfort that he's a little ashamed of just how weak he has gotten. 

God, what did Alastair do to him?

"Hey, dean. You hungry?" Sam's voice slices into his thoughts, and he hugs his arms to his chest. Glancing over to his brother briefly, before shaking his head 'no'. 

He expects Sam to fight with him on the subject. But surprisingly he just frowns, and leans back into the couch, his eyes now back on the movie. Which should make him feel bad, and it does a little bit, but not as much as he should be. Because he knows that he needs to eat, he does. But he just…Can't? 

He feels so sick, both physically and mentally, that he doesn't think he can actually hold food in his stomach without up chucking everywhere. And wouldn’t that just be a pretty sight? 

It's not like he's refusing just so he can punish himself. He just feels so…dirty both inside and out that he just has no desire to do eat nor hardly sleep. He can't remember a time when his mind was so dark. He can't even really remember really being happy. It all seems like a fuzzy dream, something that never happened. All he remembers is heartbreak and pain. So much of it that he feels both numb and crazy. 

He's not sure what happiness feels like anymore, he's not even sure if he remembers how to smile. 

Oh god, please help him. 

He leans back into his seat, blinking away the burning behind his eyes. His brother's and Gabriel's laughter filtering in through his fog as they trade commentary on the movie before them. 

If Dean could smile, he would be.

 

….

 

He's not sure when he falls asleep, no recognition what so ever of anything that happened before he fell asleep. But when he opens his eyes, all he can see is black. And it's not an understatement when he says he freaks out. He doesn't know where he is, he doesn't even recognize what he's laying on. And for a moment he dreads moving his arms, because he doesn't think they will move. He just knows that they are going to be chained together. Holding him hostage in the dark. 

So when his eyes don’t adjust to the dark, and he can't see a damn thing. He starts to think maybe there's a bag over his head. Or maybe he's in a basement somewhere. He tries his hardest to remember just what happened before he fell asleep. But for the life of him, can't. Nothing comes to mind, nothing at all. And lightening that numbs his body with just a buzz shoots through him, just like his fear. 

He's breathing so hard now that he thinks that they have to know he's awake. Because it's so loud. His chest still rattling, like something is in there. He's not sure if it's just him but he swears he hears another noise. Somewhere to his left. He can't make it out though, and he is surprised he's not screaming in fear right now. Because if this is a dream. 

Please god let this be a dream. 

Then it is way too real, and he wants to wake up. NOW.

Which he doesn't of course. The sound of something to his left get's louder and before he knows it his senses are being flooded with light. He doesn't close his eyes to the golden light though. No matter how much he wants to, because his eyes feel like they are on fire. And even with them open he can't see anything. 

He knows though that someone is there. He can see the shape of their body, but he doesn't dare move.

'you move, and you will regret it.' a memory supplies to him. Alastair's voice in his ear. 

They stand in the doorway for a long moment. For what feels like too long, and Dean wonders if maybe he should fake asleep. But he doesn't, he knows that will just make it worse. But then he thinks maybe he's just imagining things, because the shadow does not move. 

Just as Dean thinks that maybe that theory was right, the person in the doorway moves towards him. They are saying something, but he's so terrified that he doesn't bother to listen to them. As he finally gears into action and moves. He doesn't realize just how bad of an idea that was until it's too late. Because suddenly he is falling face forward, and hands out to catch him. 

Which surprisingly hands do catch him, just not his own. Large arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him back against chest. It's painful against his already sore chest and empty stomach, but he's sure it feels much better than face planting it into the floor. 

He doesn't know how he didn't realize that he was on something before. But he has no time to stew about it as he remembers that he is in somebody's arms. There's not one more thought about it as he begins to struggle. Shouting who knows what while this man just holds him against his chest on the floor. One of Dean's legs under him, and the other sprawled out in front of him. 

He kicks, and screams. His arms pinned to his chest, and his air supply getting smaller and smaller. He doesn't hear the words being said to him. Nor does he stop kicking when he sees someone else come into the room. His fear in overdrive as he begins to hyperventilate. Still pressed against someone's chest. The man holding him breathing hard. 

Dean's not sure when he stops struggling, but when he does he can feel the tears running down his face. And his breath coming so fast he thinks he should be able to breath. He's not sure what just happened. But he does, however know what stops him in his tracks. 

"It's okay." 

"It's okay."

A voice, soft and soothing. Familiar in a way he can't figure out, as he tries to catch his breath. The arms around him loosen, only slightly. While the same voice continues to whisper in his ear. He's not sure when he started to cry, but he full on sobs with relief. 

He's okay. He's okay.

"Calm down, Dean." 

"Shh. Your alright, it's just Cas." 

"It's just me, Cas." 

Cas…Just Cas. He let's out another sob in relief, leaning back against Castiel's chest. He keeps his arms around Dean, but other wise let's his hands go of his grip and wraps them around his stomach lightly. His body still tense behind Dean, as his nose bumps the back of his head. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, reeling in his sobs in relief. Shaking only slightly from his panic. Both so happy that it wasn't what he thought. And embarrassed for acting the way he did. And just a little scared for making so much noise for no reason. 

Castiel doesn't seem to care though as he holds onto Dean. Still smelling of alcohol and cleaner. He must have just gotten home from work, Dean thinks. Feeling even more guilty for making such a mess. Cas has to be exhausted by now and Dean went and had a break down because he fell asleep on what he assumes is the couch and didn't know where he was. 

He slowly opens his eyes again, as he hears more noises coming from the room. He's filled with dread and embarrassment when he sees that he pretty much woke up the entire house. Gabriel stands by the phone, with wide eyes. Like he's ready to call 911 if he needs to. And Sammy is standing just a little closer, his hair everywhere and his eyes wide with terror as he stares back at Dean. 

He sucks in a raspy breath, moving his eyes from his brother. Over to the door where it still sits open, Castiel's keys still in the lock. Where a large figure stands, staring down at Dean in horror. 

"Dad?" he rasps.   
...  
.  
....  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
..  
They told her: "Destroy what destroys you". She decided to kill herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) i will explain next chapter. thank you so much for reading i never planned for this fic to be so long....but hey whatever it's fun to write:)


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well....i tried. i hope you enjoy!!

He cannot believe his eyes, the horror that unfolds in front of him. So quickly that he has no time to react, not one moment to understand just what is happening. In his life time, he has seen a lot of things that haunt him. Things that will never stop giving him nightmares. But he has never been so surprised like this. Never like this. 

He knows that, one, the man in front of him is his son. Some twisted form of leftover broken pieces that used to be his first born. The light in which caused so much happiness in his and Mary's life. And two, that is betrayal and fear he sees in those green eyes, driving Dean to panic the way he is. And finally three, Castiel is already across the room, grabbing a hold of Dean before he can fall. Such a burst of noise and energy that he stands, in the doorway. Frozen. 

Only part of that because of the shock that runs through his body from seeing his son again. After so long. And he wishes he could say that he looks just the same as when he last saw him. 

But that would be a total lie. 

Because the person, his son, that he sees in front of him. He is no where near the person he left behind. John can tell just by looking at him. There is no need to even think that he might be the same. To think that maybe, just maybe the Dean he knew is still in there. He doesn't even need to talk to him to know that he has changed. Not for the better. 

And as he watches Dean both push against Castiel and kick away from him. He suddenly almost wishes he would have never recognized the boy working at the bar as his sons rescuer. That he would have never talked to him, explained everything to him. And most defiantly that he ever agreed to follow the boys car to his home to see his son again. 

Maybe he should explain a little more as to how he got here.

 

…..

 

It smells of sweat and alcohol, music so loud he can barely hear himself think. Mostly young people filling the space, dancing and chatting, some way too drunk off their ass to even be here. And some he's sure are too young to have ben here in the first place. Lights flash all across the space, so many dark corners where booths sit tucked away. And only a couple spaces open to sit. Which is part of the reason he sits up at the bar, where there is more light and less dancing.

He only watches the commotion for a moment before he is staring straight ahead. His arms resting against the sticky surface of the bar. Already sweating under his leather jacket, the space so warm compared to the chill outside. He watches the boy that works behind the bar. A small dark haired guy, quick with his hands, and oddly sharp eyes. He's not sure how long it's going to take just for a drink around here. Judging by the large crowd that swarms the bar. But he hopes it's not long. '

His mind tries to wander to what happened earlier that night. The information he had read, and he hopes that the boy is fast. He's not sure how long he can keep his mind from wandering to dark places. 

Sure it's all done and over, but that doesn't stop the fact that all of that. Everything that he read. Was true. Because of him, because he was too blind to see the truth. 

He stomps himself down even more, because he didn’t even consider the feeling of wrong he had. He pushed it far away and believed lies from a stranger. Promises that were all broken. And in return came back to haunt him and Dean….

"What can I get for you?" 

The voice startles him, and he sits to attention. His gaze being met with a intense stare. The blue eyed boy wiping his hands on his apron and attempting to smile down at him. His eyes lined with exhaustion, and the pinch between his brows way more obvious than he thinks the boy knows. 

He looks drained. 

And John doesn't blame him, the place is packed, and he seems to be the only one staying behind the bar tonight. 

"The strongest thing you got." He answers, his voice rough. 

The boy seems to stare at him a little longer than necessary, his eyes wide. But it's mutual, because it isn't until then that he thinks he knows this boy from somewhere….he's just not sure how. 

He seems to realize that he is staring because the next moment he is gone. Pouring a drink with quick precision. John continues to eye the boy. Curious as to why he looks so familiar. Red lights are flashing in his head, it's important he knows. But he can't figure out just who he is. 

He watches the boy pick up the cup full of brown liquid and place it in front of him with a more genuine smile. His eyes now narrowed down at John. 

"Let me now if I can get you anything else." he says politely, his voice just as warn as his facial expression. 

John's about to say thank you and give up on trying to figure out who the boy is, when it hits him, like a ton of bricks over his head. He can't remember the kids name, but he's positive it's him. His picture is engraved in his head, and he should have known sooner. The boy who saved his son, the one that was on the news when he found out about all of this. He can't believe it took him so long. 

What are the chances of him finding this boy? So soon no less. He almost wants to pinch himself just to make sure it's real. Maybe this boy knows where his son is!? Maybe John will get to see Dean sooner than he thought. 

Please, please, please, he chants in his head. As he looks back up to see the boy turning away from him to go take another order. He scrambles for words, what the hell is he supposed to say? 

"Dean." 

He blurts the first thing that comes to mind. Sure it makes no sense, but it defiantly gets the boys attention. Because he turns so fast Johns surprised he doesn't fall over. He narrows his eyes down to him, so much more emotion swirling inside of them at just the mere mention of Dean. 

John counts that as a win. 

His heart going so fast at just the thought of seeing his son again. Of knowing that Dean is okay. 

And most of all explaining himself to Dean. Telling him that he did not intend for any of this to happen. That he is so, so sorry for everything that happened. Even if it doesn't matter, or change what happened. He needs to say it. Dean needs to know that this was not what John intended. Not at all. And that he's sorry.

He looks back up to a now furious face.

"What did you just say?" The boy asks, sounding much older than he looks. 

John locks eyes with him, making sure that he knows that he means business. 

"Dean." He repeats, his own voice serious. 

Immediately the boys demeanor changes. He straightens his shoulders, places his hands on the bar , and glares down at John. With such anger that he knows that he's got the right boy. And he knows that this boy is protecting his boy with everything he has. 

He's suddenly so grateful that he backs off a bit. Softening his gaze, and relaxing his body. 

"What do you want with Dean?" He asks in a low voice, his eyes so intense that John would be scared if he weren't so relieved. He breathes out quickly, not even realizing that he was holding it in. 

He's not entirely sure how he should go about this. But he thinks that he should just get it out there, no pussy footing around the subject. 

"My names John." he explains, his voice now soft. 

The name seems to mean nothing to the boy because he raises his eyebrows in question. 

John blows out a breath. He thought for sure that someone would have told the boy about Dean's own father. 

"Jo-" he begins to say, cut off by the boy quickly. His eyes go so wide it would be comical if not for the situation. And John waits while the boy seems to process. He knew that he would understand who he was, even if it took a little longer than expected. 

"I thought…" He stutters, his mouth opening and closing a few more times. 

"I know." John says, his face showing just how sorry he is. Even though he shouldn't be sorry for this boy as much as he should for Dean. But he doesn't think he can thank this man for all that he has done. Not yet. Not until he sees his boy again, and makes sure he is safe.

….

 

"Dad?" 

His voice, oh god, his voice. He thought that he would never hear it again. Actually he was so sure that he would never hear it again. Even though it's so different from how he remembered it to be. Just that one word so lost, so unsure and full of pain. He almost wants to try and hug the pain out of him….But can't, he knows. No one present in this room would appreciate it, especially Dean. 

Because right now there are so many eyes on him, including Sam's….and another man he doesn't recognize. His younger son seemingly baffled by his appearance, looking both angry and relieved. He's never seen such a war behind Sam's brown eyes. Sure he's seen him angry, he's seen him happy, and he's watched him cry…But never a clashing. Sam always knew what he wanted, no question about it. 

The other much shorter man in the room looks…confused? His eyes just as sharp as Castiel's as he switches his gaze from one person to the other. His eyes much more guarded when he looks towards John.

It puts him in a awkward place, he's not sure what he is supposed to do. He has never been put in such a complicated situation, and he's not even sure if he can answer back to Dean. Even if he intend for an answer in return, john feels like he owes him something at least. His throat is so tight, so choked up that he's not even sure he can continue to breath. Let alone talk.

But the longer he sits in silence, the more Dean becomes panicked. He's shakes so much from where Castiel watches him, his hands still on Dean's shoulders. His body almost convulsing with how hard he shakes and breathes. Johns not sure if he can stay, he's not sure that he can even see the person his son is now…he's never been so torn between staying, or turning around and taking off. Out of this town, away from the only family he has left. And away from Dean…

But those green eyes are still on him, even as Castiel says something to Dean. He never removes his terrified wide eyed stare from him. His hands clenched so tight in his lap that John is sure they would be bleeding if they weren't already wrapped in bandages. And his skin so pale that he's not entirely convinced Dean is doing as well as Castiel had told him he was. 

He opens his mouth, again, and again. But nothing comes out, he chokes on his own words. So many things he needs to say, but none that he dares to speak. He blinks away the burn behind his eyes, and clenches his jaw. He needs to do something…

After only a moment he takes a step forward, almost like a pull towards his son. But then stops as soon as Dean cowers away from him. His body small enough that he easily curls into himself, his eyes now guarded as he looks up to John discreetly. He wants to shout, cry and puke all at the same time. 

Just what exactly happened to his son?

"Dean?" 

Castiel's voice interrupts, so soft that John is surprised he could hear it from across the room. Dean's eyes flicker over to the blue eyed boy. He looks at him in such a way that it makes John's heart hurt. His sons face so open to all of his emotions, nothing like he remembered him to be. He looks to Castiel like he hung the moon for gods sake…

Castiel drops his hands from Dean's shoulders, giving a reassuring smile when Dean's frown get's deeper. 

"Let's sit on the couch?" He asks softly, his eyes just as caring as the way he places his hand on Dean's arm again. Dean hesitates, studying the blue eyed boys face for a very long time. Then, finally, he nods. 

"Alright." he says then, standing swiftly. He holds his hand out to Dean and helps him to his feet. Further taking John's breath away…How is son even still standing? 

The sweat pants are so large around his waist, cinched to his hips so they won't fall to the ground. Even though they are his size..or his old size, they don't seem to even be close to fitting. Johns knows because he remembers those sweats, Dean wore them almost every night to sleep in. Sometimes even wearing them outside…the boy wasn't ever lazy but he sure did love his sweat pants. Even then they were a little small on Dean, but he refused to give them up. 

And now…now they look like they are five sizes too big for him. His shirt in the same state of baggy, his arms sickly small and his face lost of all fat and color. 

He feels sick all over again. 

Not just with himself, all though that’s the majority of it. But with everyone…with Alastair for doing this. For Castiel for not getting to Dean sooner. For Sam for not shoving some food into Dean. And with Dean for not ripping Johns head off right then and there for all that he has done. 

How is he supposed to explain anything to Dean now? There's no way he will ever forgive him or understand. He didn't know just how bad they were living. Just how screwed they were with money, food, a house…he had no idea. 

And john wouldn't blame him if he didn't forgive him. Hell he wouldn't be surprised if he never get's to explain at all. If Dean kicks him out for good without even trying to hear him out. 

And he wouldn't stop that from happening either. He deserves it. He deserves everything life has to give to him after what he's done. 

"I'm going to get you something to drink, okay?" Castiel says, Dean nodding briefly from where he now sits on the couch. His arms tucked to his chest and his shoulders hunched upwards in defense. 

"John." Castiel says, louder and more stern, catching his attention. He looks over to the blue eyed boy in question, no doubt his face terrified. He seems to know this because he gives a tight smile, glancing over to Dean for a moment before looking back to John. 

"Come in, please." he says, gesturing to the small apartment. 

He just now realizes that the door still sits open, and he turns to take out the keys and close it behind him. He tries to close it as gently as possible, the feeling of eyes on his back as he does just that. When he turns around again, its only him and Dean in the room. 

Now alone it plunges into silence, the whispers of Castiel and someone else filtering in through the kitchen. Dean looks everywhere but at him. His eyes wondering to his hands where he clasps them in his lap, then over to where he assumes Castiel is. Over an over again, his body still shaking. 

"I-" He stutters out, Dean's stare flicking up to him. Emotions he doesn't recognize flicking so fast over his face that he can't get a read on how he is feeling. He snaps his mouth shut, rubbing the back of his head self cautiously. 

He doesn't know what to say…

And luckily, he doesn't have to say anything at all, because just then Castiel walks back into the room. A glass of water in his one hand, and a bottle of juice in the other. His eyes just as sharp as ever as he looks over to John. He hands the juice to Dean, and sets the glass of water on the coffee table. 

"Sit." he says, gesturing to the recliner closer to John. He takes a seat himself, beside Dean, leaving quite a bit of space between the two of them. 

He looks to the seat, then back up to his son and Castiel. 

"Maybe I should come back another time?" he suggests, once again catching Dean's gaze. His son looks away quickly, grabbing onto the bottle of orange juice tighter. And Castiel looks up to him in puzzlement.   
"It's obviously a bad time…And Dean needs some time to adjust to everything." he explains, clenching his jaw in disappointment. 

Castiel sits up straighter, one brow raised. He's obviously confused as to why he wants to leave now, after he practically begged to see Dean again. He opens his mouth only to be startled by Dean's voice. 

"No." He says, both quiet and strong. Only the second time hearing his voice and It makes his throat tight all over again. 

"Dean.." Castiel starts. 

"NO. I want to hear what he has to say." Dean says, his voice only a tiny bit louder, but a lot stronger. His eyes are almost laced with anger, the tinge of fear still there. 

Castiel furrows his brows, leaning in closer to his son. "Are you sure?" He asks. 

"Yeah." Dean answers him, his gaze much softer than when looking at John. He almost looks afraid of what Castiel will reply to that. But soon relaxes when Castiel simply nods once. 

"Where should we start." He says, finally sitting in the chair furthest from Dean. His son full on glaring at him now, only an underlying sadness underneath. He looks up to meet both of their gazes in question. 

"How about from the beginning?" Castiel suggests, Dean nodding in agreement. His eyes traveling back down to the unopened drink in his hands, as John begins to tell them everything. 

.  
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.

 

….


	60. dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry i've been gone so long!! with gishwhes and comic con and then i slipped back into my dark head space....i had no time or energy to write..but i will share what i have attempted to write with you guys..thank you so much for the love and support. and especially your patience...i know i tend to write alot or nothing at all...so hope this chapter isn't too horrible..i'm also sorry that is so much shorter than most of my chapters. ily all sm thank you for everything. xoxo

Looking at his face again is like looking at a complete stranger. Broken shards of his past all made up into one man. He looks much the same. Except for the fact that he is older. The wiry hair of his graying beard grown too long around his turned down chapped lips. Portraying sadness where there used to be smiles. Fine lines beneath his eyes and between his brows. Constantly pinched together, from years of worry and guilt. He stares into the swirl of browns inside of his sad eyes. The same eyes he has always looked to for help and guidance. 

His shoulders sagging but broad. Strong just the way he thinks he remembers them to be. His shirt no doubt old and in need of a wash. The smell of alcohol coming off of him in small doses. Just like it always has. But now the smell seems like it could curl itself around his neck and choke him to death. It's never been a comforting scent. 

He's not far enough, but he's also not close enough. That old instinct to trust drilled into his bones just begging him to hug the man in welcome. But the tortuous demons whispering to him to fight and run. He listens to neither as he just continues to stare.

No real emotion, no real motive. Just to be able to look at the man again is…

It’s a mix of anger, fear, relief, happiness, and betrayal. But most of all sadness. Not just because he has looked at this same man all of his life. With really only one emotion inside of his own head. Love. From when he could only see the tops of his legs, to when he started to reach his shoulders. All the way to when he grew just a tad bit taller, never losing any of his love and devotion the bigger he grew. 

And never in a million years ever thinking that this would happen to him. The cause sitting in the same room. Looking guilty, and confused. The man that now sits in front of him a stranger. Receiving for the first time he has looked at him the complete opposite of love. 

Hatred. 

It's not much. And it's nothing like he used to be able to feel. But it's just enough that he overwhelms the sadness dragging him down. If only for a couple moments so be it. He rather be angry than sad.

He doesn't dare speak. Not even as his father takes it upon himself to tell his story. He hardly even moves. Whether it be from fear or curiosity he doesn't know. But he listens with half a ear as that oh so familiar voice rumbles around him. So different from what he imagined him to sound like all those times he dreamt about his father rescuing him. His voice, nor his wisdom as comforting as he imagined all those times he cried himself to sleep. Or kept himself from passing out on a bloody floor. 

The voice now riveting and blood curdling against his ears. Almost like Alastair is the one that sit in front of him. It might as well be since his father is the one that organized this horror show. 

"Dean?" Castiel whispers to him. His eyes a calm deep blue when he looks over. His body immediately relaxing as he realizes how hard he grips the juice between his hands. He gives his best reassuring smile to try and tell him it’s okay. Which he must understand as he nods over to John to go on ahead. 

His father begins to speak again. His voice dipped in such emotion that Dean struggles to find the lies. "I never meant for any of this to happen, I'm s-." His father begins. 

"Don't." Dean interrupts, his hand shaking as he lowers the bottle of juice to rest on his leg. Castiel looks over to him in surprise, but says nothing in response to Dean's rudeness. Which he feels thankful for. This is not how he wanted to start this out. If John thinks that he can apologize without any explanation first. He's wrong. As far as Dean is concerned, John is just as much of an monster as Alastair is.

His dad looks surprised by Dean's response. His mouth snapping shut and his eyes flashing with sadness. 

"I don't want your apologies." He snaps out quickly. Lowering his eyes to his lap, so he doesn't have to see the hurt in his fathers eyes.

"Just get on with it." He pushes. His voice wavering slightly at the end. 

After a moment his father clears his throat, nodding in agreement. Dean isn't sure if he's ready for the truth yet. But he knows that after today he won't have the guts to stand up to his father again. It's like ripping off a band aid, he thinks. He just needs to get it over with now. The sooner he does the less it will hurt…Which is a lie, of course, but he tries not to dwell on it too long. 

"When we started to lose money, and it began to get harder and harder to keep our heads above water.." he starts, trailing off, his voice thick and his eyes pinned to the floor. 

"That's when I met him." 

"Him?" Dean question's, looking up sharply. He already thinks he knows who John is talking about, but he asks anyway. 

"Alastair." He says, sending shivers down his spine. Dean pushes away the overwhelming feelings that try to flood his system. Just the sound of his name being said out loud enough to send pain through his chest. 

Castiel gestures for John to continue, realizing that Dean has gone still with a far away look in his eyes. 

"It was late, and I was in the bar having a drink after a particularly hard day." he swallows past his tight throat. "When he came up to me. He was friendly, understanding. At first I thought that he was just looking for someone to talk to. But when I happened to mention you, he wanted to know more." 

John runs a hand down his face, glancing back up quickly. 

"He told me about his spouse that passed away a while back. Saying that he was looking for someone, and that he was new in town." he says, Dean's heart racing as he tries to listen. 

"I honestly don't know how it came up..But by the end of the night he had offered to, and I quote, give you a better life. I had his number, and a huge choice on my hands by the time I wandered home that night. And the more I thought about it the better it seemed." he tries to explain, his voice rough. 

"I don't expect you to understand my choice. But after weeks of mulling it over I made a decision. After I saw how wealthy he was, how humble and mellow he seemed I thought that it was the right choice. Of course..it wasn't, and I regret not seeing that for the longest time." John says, his eyes speaking nothing but the truth. 

Dean swallows down the acid crawling up his throat. The feeling of pure wrong, and sickness. Because did Alastair twist and manipulate his father too? 

"I couldn't contact him for weeks. Just the thought of taking money for you..it felt wrong. And every time I picked up the phone I ended up putting it back down. It was a generous offer, and he was good for it. But that wasn't what I was so worried about."

"You still did it though." He growls in return, glaring up at his father. 

John sighs heavily, folding his hands together in his lap. "Yes. I did." He says sheepishly. 

"Why?" Dean asks suddenly, his voice cracking. 

John looks up sharply. "I told you."

"No, you didn't. You told me what Al promised, but not why you decided to do it." Dean growls back, watching his father and Castiel flinch with the use of Alastair's nickname. 

"I wanted you to have a better life." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

Dean looks up at him sharply, the cuts on his thigh burning with the jerky movement. He opens his mouth, only to be cut off by his father speaking again. 

"I Didn't mean it like that." John says quickly, his voice sad again. 

Dean scoffs. "Of course not." he mutters. "How would you have known that I would have been better off with you." 

John is taken back by that, the first sparks of annoyance in his amber eyes as he looks up at Dean. "I didn't know. Would it have been better for me to refuse his offer? When I thought that we were going to starve to death one day, or be homeless for the rest of our lives if I didn’t accept. When there was a chance for you to be taken care of and happy?" He says, his anger bleeding into his voice. 

"Yes!" Dean yells, his eyes burning. "Because at least I wouldn't have ended up there!" (With him, his brain supplies.) His voice giving out on him. He takes a deep breath, covering his face with a shaking hand. Castiel's soothing voice reassuring him over and over again. His father's eyes no doubt on him as he tries to control his breathing. 

"I'm sor-" John starts, cut off by Dean's angry voice. 

"Don't." He snaps, sucking in a gulp of fresh air through his clenched teeth. His vision swirling as he removes his hand and glares up at his father. 

"What happened next." He manages to say, squeezing his thigh tightly beneath shaking fingers. John looks bewildered for a moment, before clearing his throat. 

"I contacted him, and we met for the trade." he says quickly. "That was about a day or two before our fight. He knew where you would be going, and he knew exactly how to reel you in." 

"I don’t know much more. Other than he sent me one text saying that you were safe. After that we pretty much lost contact." He says.

Dean shuts his eyes briefly, his head pounding. "Why didn't you call?" he asks quietly. 

"I didn't think that you would have wanted to talk to me. Not after our fight." He says truthfully.

"No, I wouldn't have." Dean agrees, looking to his hands. 

John nods like he knew what the answer to that was already. 

All though what came out of his mouth just now was a lie, he can't bring himself to correct it. Despite the fight, and all of the things him and his dad went through. All Dean wanted for most of those two years spent with Alastair in hell. Was just to hear his father's voice again, or see his face. Hell, even a card would have been okay. Because at least then he knew someone loved him. 

Despite all of that, despite his heart throbbing at just the sight of John again. He can't tell him how much he's missed him, or how many times he wishes he could have called. Because his dad would think that he is forgiving him. And after hearing the darker parts of his messed up story Dean doesn't think he can forgive him yet, maybe not ever. 

"All of that doesn't matter anyway." John starts to say, his jaw twitching. 

"What do you mean?" He snaps back, looking up through his lashes at John's desperate face. 

"Part of the agreement was that I have no contact with you." He says, his whiskey eyes avoiding Dean all together. He almost looks like he…he feels bad? 

Dean puts on the best glare he can, clenching his shaking hands in his lap. 

"Then what?" He practically whispers. 

His father glances at him for a moment, his brow furrowing. 

"Nothing. We lost contact after the first few check in's I had with him. It seemed like you just dropped off the map. And, frankly…I wasn't worried. Up until then he seemed genuine and happy. He made it seemed like you were happy, Dean. That was all that mattered to me." He rambles, his stare becoming frantic. 

He scoffs, shaking his head. Yeah, he was just great with Alastair…

"You never thought it was weird that he just stopped?" Castiel interrupts, his stare just as confused as Dean's.

John's eyes snap over to Cas. "No…" He trails off. 

Dean shakes his head in disbelief. There is something missing here, he thinks. Watching his father fidget where he sits across from him. 

Then why did Al tell him his dad was dead? Was that when they lost contact? Or why Alastair thought to stop the updates? Because he wanted to keep up his façade? Was John in on it too? 

He tucks himself further into the couch, his stare never leaving his dad. 

"Why.." He starts, his mouth dry. 

He tries again. "Why did…why did Al tell me you died?" He finally finishes, his words almost a whisper. 

John looks startled, his face calculating. Almost like he doesn’t believe Dean. 

"When did he tell you that Dean?" He asks. 

Dean glances to Cas and then back to John. Did he really not know about this?

"Uh.." He pauses, trying to think back to when he got the news. 

"I guess right before things started to get really bad. Almost a year after meeting Alastair." he says, his voice skeptical. Maybe it was before that? He can't remember. It all seems like a foggy mess, especially after things started to go downhill. 

Both Castiel, and John are looking at him with sad eyes when he happens to lift his head again. And he doesn't realize why they are looking at him like that until he realizes what he just said. When it started to get really bad? Really Dean? You promised you weren't going to say anything that had to do with that time in his life. Not anymore. Especially because he get's looked at like a hurt animal. He can't take the pity.   
"Stop looking at me like that." He says with a sigh. Both his dad and Cas looking away quickly. 

John clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry.." 

Dean rolls his eyes, waving his hand in dismissal. 

"I'm going to guess that was around the time that he told me you wanted nothing to do with me, and that he wouldn’t be calling anymore." His dad says, with a furrow between his brow. 

He blinks. "You didn't..you weren't in on this with him?" he says skeptically. 

"What? Of course I wasn't. I told you I'm not the bad guy here." John says quickly, his eyes wide with fear. 

Dean squints up at him. He wants to believe him…he does. But he just doesn't, after a life time of lies that's all he sees now. 

He decides to move on from the topic. Knowing that his father will protest about lying if he asks. 

"What about the picture?" He asks, his glare back in place when he looks up again. 

His father looks confused now. But only for a moment. It's like a lightbulb lights up, his eyes going wide.

"For your birthday." he says, like it's a fact. 

Dean frowns. "My birthday?" 

John's half smile disappears immediately. 

"He gave it to you didn't he?" He asks. 

"Yes." Dean answers quickly. "But not on my birthday, and he didn't say it was from you." He says. 

If possible, John's frown get's deeper. 

"Shouldn't have expected him too.." He whispers, mostly to himself. 

"Why didn't you give it to me?" He asks, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. 

His father face loses light, dropping into something much sadder. Despair etching him ten years older. His eyes so brown that they could swallow someone whole. Dean has only ever seen that look once or twice. And both times had to do with his mother.

It pains him to see his father so hurt. But considering the circumstances he tries to make himself seem like he doesn't care. Even with that part of him that just wants to break down and give him a hug. He manages to put on his brave face and wait for John's response. 

"If I could have, I would have." he answers after a moment, his eyes so sincere dean feels like he's going to break. He swallows past his tight throat, nodding his understanding. 

The moment seems to break as John looks past his shoulder with a slightly happier expression. That tinge of sadness still clinging to him like a leech. 

"Sam-" He doesn't get to finish, Sam's voice exploding from behind Dean. 

"How dare you!?" 

He turns to get a better look at his brother, Gabriel looking frazzled and out of breath just beside a fuming Sam. His brother looking both frustrated and conflicted. His hands clenched by his sides as he looks at John. 

"I'm sorry I tried to keep him out a little longer." Gabriel rushes to say, Castiel's stare flicking between the two. 

"It's fine. He's your father too." Cas says calmly from beside Dean, his hand coming to rest on his own. He doesn’t realize how hard he's shaking until he grips Cas's hand in return. His fingers cold against his over heated skin. 

"Sam?" he whispers uncertainly, his brothers eyes still burning hot over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to hear Dean, or he just doesn't care. Because he continues to glare down their dad. 

He's not expecting him to speak, but when he does it's unnerving. "This is the first time in weeks that Dean has spoken more than a word. And you just get to come in here and mess everything up?" Sam says. 

Dean snaps to attention, whipping his head back around towards Sam. 

"Stop it Sam. I'm sitting right here!" 

Sam's eyes finally look to him, his mouth snapping shut. Dean can see the immediate regret in his brother's eyes, but decides to keep his glare in place. 

"Dean." His dad says quietly from behind him. 

"You know what he did to you!? To us?" Sam argues. Gabriel looking at him in shock, while Castiel squeezes his hand lightly.

"Yes! I know. But he's explaining everything. And it wasn't all his fault Sam, he didn’t know." He says, mentally slapping himself. Now John is going to think Dean's on his side. Sam looks just as baffled as he feels, his eyebrows shooting up in shock. 

"Wasn't his fault?" He asks, anger creeping back into his tone. 

Dean sighs in frustration. "No, it wasn’t. We can't blame him for what Al did..Okay?" 

"Just…" he trials off, his chest getting tight. Castiel's hand grabbing his tighter. "Just listen to what dad has to say, okay?" he finishes, his voice a lot softer than he intended it to be. 

Sam looks at him in surprise, his eyes sad and his hands still clenched into fists. Dean feels like he might either puke or cry. His chest tight as he tries to control his breathing. 

"Please?" He manages to say, Castiel's other hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Sam looks perplexed for a moment, his gaze switching from Dean to Cas. 

"Okay." He agrees quietly, unclenching his fists in defeat. Dean smiles, turning back around on the couch his breath still coming short. 

....

 

After dean had spilled his entire life story to his father, and john had left with a promise to return tomorrow. Dean had retreated back to the room him and castiel share in silence. The blue eyed man following shortly after, saying nothing as he closed the door behind him and changed into sweats. While Dean lied down on the bed across the room, his back facing castiel. Only silence, as Castiel drenches them in darkness and slides into the bed next to Dean. They don't speak even as Dean lets the tears he had been holding in all night slip free. His body shaking with silent sobs, and invisible pain. He can feel Cas move in closer to him, but never touching. And Dean isn't sure if he's grateful for that or not. 

Later on when he can hear Cas' soft breathing from behind him, meaning that he was asleep. He wishes that castiel would have held him, reasured him, anything. Because now as he lays there with red puffy eyes and a sore chest he feels incredibly alone. Even if he wasn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
